My Couch
by Basco57
Summary: A string of one-shots that takes us through the stages of Sam and Freddie's lives. But, to give it a little twist, the whole thing is in Spencer's PoV, and every scene takes place on the Shay's couch.
1. It's my couch

**Hello. Thank you for stopping by.  
Mmmkay, so this one is just like a bunch of one-shots kinda sorta and they play out to tell a storyish thing. I apologize for vagueness.  
Okay this scene is the first time Spencer ever sees Sam and Freddie together. And the first time they ever sit on the Shay's couch together. **

**Ages: uh, first season...how ever old they were then...they looked twelve...I don't know...****So yeah. Spencer PoV. Remember that if it starts sounding, like, really random.  


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It was my apartment.

It was my refrigerator_. __  
_

It was my remote control.

And seriously, it was_ my _couch.

But you wouldn't know that walking in on the living room scene at almost any given time. I remember the first time access to my couch was taken from me by my little sister's two best friends. They...hmm...well, they are both rather strange. You see Freddie, he's like a cooler version of a tech-geek. Well, maybe not that much cooler. But it's impossible for the poor kid to be cool. Have you met his mom? Dear God...seriously a nutcase. She's like the scary overbearing mother I never had and never wanted. Did you know she makes me label my underwear? Me? _My_ underwear? I tried explaining to her that I am not her son and I'm a GROWN MAN. You know, for a seemingly sweet and concerned mom, she is incredibly enforcing. And frightening. And alarming. And assertive....

Wait. What was I talking about again? No, before the fearsome single mom. Ah, yes, Freddo. Right, well he moved in across the hall a few years ago, back when he was just a little squirt. And I guess this sparked his undying love for my little sister Carly. But it's cool with me. Freddie's alright. He seems like he'd make a pretty good boyfriend. I mean, I don't think he would ever try anything too risky, which is just how we older brothers like the boyfriends. Oh right. Carly. Carly is my little sister, if you haven't gathered that. Well, uh, she comes off as this perfect little angel who is really cool and fun and sweet and smart and wonderful, but that's not who she is deep down. The kid is seriously an evil genius. I guess. And one time she made me drag her around in a wheel barrel for, like, eight hours! But I still love her more than anything (except possibly marshmallows...I love marshmallows). Oh, sorry. This isn't Carly's story. Or, sadly, a marshmallow's story. This is about Freddie, Sam, and mostly my couch.

Alright so that's Fred. Now Sam...well she's, um, a bit of a different story. The kid has been practically living at my house since she and Carls were in third grade, I think. Or second possibly. But that doesn't matter. What does matter is that you get the idea that she has been hanging around for a very long time. The first time I met her, I came home, and she was sitting on my couch. I remember vaguely her snatching a corn dog from my hands before she left that first day. Yeah, not much has changed. All the kid does is eat and mock things (shows, objects, Freddie, etc.). But she's fun to hang around. And deep, _deep_ down, I know she is a really good kid. She's just a bit rough around the edges. Maybe she's committed a few crimes, but nothing earth-shattering. Well, she beat up a blind man once. That was pretty earth-shattering I guess. But other than that...well, and maybe a federal offense or two. But get past her illegal nature, and she's just pleasant. Just Pleasant. Yeah...no. No, she's really not. But Carls sees the value in her. And I do enjoy her sarcasm and random aggression most of the time. As long as it's not pointed at me. I'm usually safe when Freddie is in the room.

Which finally brings me to my point. Hmm...one of my points. You know what? I'm hungry. All this talk about marshmallows is making my stomach do crazy things. I wonder what Carly is making for dinner. Mmm...Oh! Sorry. Anyhoo, this is my account of the first time Sam and Freddie sat on my couch together.

Right, well I'm getting home from Socko's house. He was teaching me the art of tailoring lighty-uppy socks. It's okay, be impressed. So I have all of these lighty-uppy socks in my hands, and I have to knock on the door with my face. This proves to be an activity that my nose does not enjoy. Poor nose. So then I call out, "Carly! Open the door! My hands are full!"

I hear a muffled exchange that goes something like this, "Answer the door." _"You answer the door!" _"It's my house, my rules. Answer it, Dork-wad!" _"It is not your house! It's Carly's! And you can get the door!" _"Don't use that tone with me, little nub boy." _"Wait, Sam. What are you doing? Put that down. Hey Stop! Sam! SAM!" _The sure sound of senseless beating then follows. Next, Freddie asks weakly, _"Where did you get that frying pan?" _Then Sam, "Answer the door, Fredward."

So, finally, the door opens. I look down and see the kid from 8D across the hall standing in front of me. He has a giant red mark on his forehead that has a striking resemblance to the bottom of a frying pan. "You okay?" I ask.

He glares back at Sam as he moves to let me by. "Just peachy."

Sam snorts. "Peachy. _Peachy_?" I make my way to the island in the kitchen and drop my sock load on the counter top. "Why, oh web show gods, do you forsake me and give me _that _as a tech-producer?"

Freddie takes his place on the couch next to the angry blonde again. I can tell by his fidgety movement that he's scared. I mean, she does have a few inches on him as she glares down at him. I'd be scared too. I bet Sam could totally take Freddie over her knee, and, well, you know the rest. But the brave and idiotic little Freddo doesn't back down. He just glares back up at her defiantly. I see a quick smile in Sam's eyes. Then she kicks her feet out, smothering poor little Freddie into the corner of the couch. He grunts his disprovable of their new position, but Sam gives him another good kick and he shuts up.

"Where's Carly?"

"Shower," they answer together. Then Sam glares at Freddie.

He furrows his eyebrows as he heaves an exasperated huff. "Am I not allowed to say words at the same time as you, or what?"

I reenter the living room and scan the area for my beloved remote control. Apparently for kicks, Sam kicks Freddie again. And yes, pun definitely intended. Freddie looks as though he may be contemplating a minor retaliation, but his thoughts are cut short by a piercing stare from Sam. "Uh, should...I be concerned..er..."

Sam's attention is finally drawn away from her prisoner as she acknowledges my presence for the first time. "Nope. We're good." Freddie tries to voice his disagreement, and is hushed by a sneaker in the face. "Freddie is just being a wimp."

I take in the situation at hand as my search for the remote becomes a bit more of a fervent effort. Hmm...Sam and Freddie. I've seen the two many times before, just never together. I guess they know each other. Or, they seem to at least. Then again, maybe not. With the chemistry these two apparently have in a fight, I bet they could've just picked it up right of the bat. _'Hey, I'm Freddie, and I know stuff about computers.' 'Hey Freddie, I'm Sam, and I hate you. Burn in hell.' _Yeah, that sounds like it might be about right.

Finding the remote has officially turned into a desperate search. I'm looking under scatted papers on the coffee table, and behind the TV. Sam eyes me reproachfully as I attempt to move her legs away from Freddie so I can look beneath the couch cushions. I reel back a few feet at the look she just gave me. Wow. She is like, what, twelve? Man she's scary! Freddie looks a little disgruntled as she settles her feet forcefully into his form again. _It's my couch_. I look underneath a small cinnamon scented candle, hoping this pathetic gesture may appeal to Sam's kindheartedness. And her ignoring me completely proves that she has none. I head back out to the kitchen. I need something marshmallowy to help me get through this missing remote ordeal. The most noticeable dish in the fridge currently is a large green bowl. Actually, it's not a green bowl. Or it wasn't at one time. It used to be a clear glass bowl. I guess it's contents gave it some interesting discoloration. Hmm...that's a pretty green. I take it out and tear off the lid. _Ew..._not a pretty smell. Wait, there's something in the bowl. Something other than the stinky green surprise.

"Hey kiddos?"

"Yeah?"

"Huh?"

"Um, first of all, what is this green stuff?"

Sam stretches her neck to see above Freddie's dark head. "Oh, that. Potato salad."

"No, it's green. Potato salad has a distinct yellow color," I state.

"Oh, well, then you better throw it out. I found it in the iCarly studio yesterday. Guess I left it in there awhile back." Sam shrugs. "Anyways, thought I'd return it to our fridge."

"It's not your fridge," Freddie mumbles. Sam kicks him, again.

"Wait. Is this from the fourth of July?"

Sam shrugs again. "Yeah, why?"

I hold back my gag. "Oh nothing...it's just that the fourth of July was TWO MONTHS AGO!"

"I'd still eat it," Sam says quietly.

Freddie smirks over at her. "That's disgusting, Sam." She raises her right foot in warning and Freddie quickly retreats further into the corner of the couch.

I hold the potato salad out at arms length. It's stench still fills my nostrils. "And my second question. Why is the remote control _in _the potato salad?"

"Oh yeeeaah!" Sam jumps up eagerly and joins me by the fridge. Freddie seems relieved as he hastily stretches out over the entire couch. "I dropped it in there after rehearsal yesterday." She digs her hand into the green slime and retrieves the remote. I quickly snap the lid back on and set the bowl on the counter. Uh...Carly can deal with it when she gets out of the shower. She's better with this kind of thing.

I turn back to Sam. "So, you decided to leave it in there?"

"Well, it was more involuntary then that." When my expression remains frustrated and confused, she sighs. She seems to hate having to use words to explain herself. Hmm... Anyways, she continues, "I was seriously thinking about getting it out. Seriously! But then I fell asleep."

Freddie laughs. "You fell asleep? How long did it take you to think about taking the remote out of the salad?" Sam shoots him a glare, but he ignores her warning this time. Now that she does not pose a direct threat because she is not sitting next to him, he has a bit more confidence. "Well, then again, it does usually take you awhile to get the ol' thought process movin'." Uh oh. I have only seen the two together for, like, three minutes now, and I already have a good idea of what's coming.

Sure enough, Sam takes five angry strides over to the couch. I can see the fear in Freddie's expression, but he remains covering all three cushions. Sam angrily nudges him once. And as if he has a death wish, he doesn't move. He only stares up at Sam with a challenging look. Sam is not about to let someone be more stubborn than herself. She gives poor Freddo a mischievous smile before slowly crouching to the floor. I make out Freddie's barely audible gulp. It must be _very _important for this kid to not let Sam get what she wants. I would just kill myself now if that was my life's ambition. Sam stands up just as slowly as she went down, now clutching the frying pan. Hmm...maybe I should step in? No, this is rather interesting. Then I think of Freddie's beaten form, and more importantly, how Mrs. Benson will flip out when she sees his beaten form. I look back to the soon-to-be massacre going on in my living room. Sam's face is twisted into a crazed grin as she's bringing the pan back behind her head. Her eyes show no signs of remorse. Freddie is currently in fetal position, holding his knees and rocking slightly. I dash out of the kitchen and manage to grab Sam's elbow before she strikes Freddie. She tries to jerk away, but I keep a firm hold until Freddie has safely crossed over to the other side of the room. Then Sam tears away from my grip and goes after him again. He quickly whips open the door and flies across the hall to 8D. Sam turns back to me, swinging the frying pan nonchalantly at her side, smiling satisfactory. She flops back down on the couch and begins licking the 'potato salad' off of my remote.

I am busying myself with the matching of my new lighty-uppy socks (mainly so I don't have to watch Sam put her mouth on my dear TV channel flipping device). Carly skips down the steps. She's got a towel wrapped around her sopping hair, and a stack of colored note card in her hands. "Hey guys." She looks around. "Where's Freddie? He was supposed to go over iCarly ideas with us." She waves the cards slightly.

I look over at Sam expectantly to see her giving me the same look. I know we will be here all day if I wait for her to give in. "Uh," I begin. "Freddie has left the premises."

"Why?"

I look back at Sam, who is now using the newly clean remote to channel surf. "Sam beat him with a frying pan."

Carly doesn't looked surprised, only exasperated. I guess I was right in assuming that hostility was a normal thing for her two stubborn little friends. "Sam, seriously. Again?" _Again? _Yikes.

"I only threatened him!" she states defensively. "Well, the second time at least." With a triumphant smirk, she turns back to the TV.

"So, this is normal for them? Right?" I ask Carly quietly.

She nods. "If you are referring to them teasing each other, testing the other's limits, and expressing the desire to kill one another almost daily, then yes. It's normal."

So there you have it. The first time I saw Sam and Freddo on my couch. Sam stole my remote, and claimed my fridge as her property. Freddie pushed her far enough over the edge to get himself beaten with a frying pan. Sam almost killed him. And their presence took away access to my wonderful couch. Not much changes either. Believe me.

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**Okay, first one-shot...kinda different. Well, maybe this wouldn't be considered a one-shot, cuz the next installment goes along with this. It's just that a lot of time passes between chapters. IDK, call it what you want. Sorry that this one is not very seddie/action packed. But you have to start somewhere.  
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**Alrighty, thanks guys. Please leave a review. Please. Seriously. Just do it. Okay, peace!**


	2. Still my couch

**Hello. How are you doing today? So thanks for the feedback on the last couch story thingy. It was really good to hear that my Spencer PoV was believable because that was the big thing I was what was stopping me from writing this. Spencer is kind of hard to write because the show doesn't let us in on his thoughts and feelings in great depth or anything. So if you can write Spencer, power to you. I tried, really. And if the first person PoV is off, it just ruins the entire story. So I hope Spencer is _Spencerish_ in this one as well. That's my main goal, keeping them in character. So yeah...read!**

**Okay this one is like a three-shot type thing. They all take place in the same day though...As for their ages, it would probably fit into season two.**

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Hey guys. It's me again. Me being Spencer that is. If you didn't guess that already, which you really should've. Unless you have a valid excuse. Short term memory loss is a good one. Also if you recently had some tragic event occur in your life that has thrown you a bit off track. Like the time I accidentally dropped my goldfish Phillipe in the garbage disposal. That was tragic. Rest in peace Phillipe. Hmm...what was I just about to tell you? Oh, yes. You are curious about Freddo and Sam, not my fish. Hmph, fine. So last time we talked I was recounting the first time Sam and Freddie sat on my couch together. And more importantly, the time I went to Socko's house and got my first supply of lighty-uppy socks (many more socks to follow, my friends).

So I guess you have come back to hear more about my socks. Well, I am currently making a batch of my own. They are special addition. Two lighty-uppy squiggly lines down the sides! Socko was impressed with my work ethic. Oh, and if you'd like a pair, just log on to iCarly. If you get Carl's riddle correct, you are the winner of a beautiful pair of my one of a kind lighty-uppy socks. Right, well, er...Sam and Freddie! Okay, so it was a Wednesday if I remember correctly. Well, maybe it was a Thursday. Tuesday? Oh right, sorry. I guess it doesn't really matter. Anyways, I do know it was the day that I was building a sculpture made entirely of waffles. It was supposed to be a giant man. 'The Waffle Consumer' is pure genius. But it kind of turned into a moose. I subconsciously gave it antlers. Oops. Oh well, it looks cool. So I walk into my apartment with my hands full of waffles and syrup. And in the spirit of all that is breakfast foods, I would be using syrup instead of glue. Anyways, I walk into my house to find none other than...you guessed it! Sam and Freddie, on my couch.

Actually Sam is the only one on the couch. I notice Freddie standing on the other side of the couch behind Sam, and he is in a rather odd position. And uncomfortable. Ah. Because Sam has him in a backwards head lock. So she's on the couch with her arms extended back and wrapped around Freddie's neck, who is literally bending over backwards so she can actually carry out this action. He's struggling desperately, but she's got a firm grip on him. Her wide smirk makes me wonder how they got into this position. Glad I wasn't around.

"Where's Carls?"

"Shower," Sam answers. Ah, of course. That's my extremely hygiene conscious little sister.

Sam's eyes light up at the sight of me. "Are those waffles?" she asks. Or maybe they lit up at the sight of the large quantity of one of her favorite foods. Yeah, most likely the second one. Her apparent excitement for the waffles almost makes her forget about her prisoner. She loosens her grip for a second and Freddie almost gets free. Almost. But Sam is quick to put him back in the 'backwards sleeper hold over the couch thingy'. Is it just me, or has she tightened her hold?

"Yes, they are in fact waffles." I quickly drop them on the counter and strategically place myself in front of them to block Sam's view of my latest art supply. "But you can't eat them. Sorry."

Her face falls. "What do you mean I can't eat them? They're waffles!"

"No, they are the necessary materials for my sculpture. There's an exhibit open in the Museum of Food Culture, and they asked me to fill it!"

Sam doesn't match my enthusiasm. "Waffles are for eating-," she elbows Freddie, who almost got away just now, in the face, "-but good luck, I guess." Freddie lets out a weak groan. His face is currently a deep shade of red. From Sam's no mercy choke hold or from being upside down for so long, I'm not sure.

I begin smearing syrup over a few waffles. "Sam, maybe you should let Fred go."

"Mmm..._naw_." Sam jerks Freddie violently to give him the message to stop his struggling. But he doesn't receive it. Or he does, he's just trying to piss her off. Yep, I'm convinced he's been contemplating suicide. Sam jerks him again, and then a third time. Freddo is officially my favorite shade of purple. Hmm...maybe I'll give the waffle man/moose purple eyes. Ah, inspiration. How refreshing. Oh, and maybe I should assert my being adultyish and step in here. Uh...

I begin stacking the sticky waffles to form the frame of the legs. Then I sigh and call over my shoulder, "Uh...Sam? Seriously kid. Let him go." She ignores me. She picks up my remote and flicks on the TV with one hand, and tightens her grip on Freddie with the other.

"Oh! I forgot that there was an MMA fight on tonight!" And why can't she use that enthusiasm when discussing my artwork?

Freddie now has his fingers under Sam's forearm and is attempting to pry it away from his neck. He manages to get a moment breathing room, but waists his one breath on telling Sam, "Wow. Of course you'd get all excited about sweaty guys throwing each other around."

She reaches her other arm back and re-wraps it around his neck so she's got maximum power over him again. "I only get excited when there's blood, Fredqueer." Now Freddie's breathing is, again, cut off. I bet he's wishing he could've refrained from jeering Sam just long enough to breath. Poor kid. Then again, he was asking for it. I should probably try to help him out of Sam's hold now...

Oh no! The waffle man/moose's right leg just fell apart! Urgh. Alright, maybe the syrup as reinforcement was not up there with my most genius of ideas. Ah man! I guess I have to cave and go get some glue. But our kitchen's supply seems to have run out. I risk leaving Sam and Freddie alone and check around my room. Nothing in there either. I walk into the living room to find the kids just as I left them. Sam staring at the TV screen and Freddie trying desperately to break free from her hold. Okay, they're fine. So I grab my wallet and head to the store. I take one last look at the sagging form of my waffle creation. Yes, glue is vital at this time.

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Wow, _Value-Mart_. Try _Suck Away All of your Cash-Mart._ Did you know it costs eighteen dollars and thirty-six cents these days _just _for five tubes of super glue? I could, like, buy six packages of marshmallows with that. Or bribe Carly into doing the dishes! Or replace Phillipe (rest in peace). The burden we artists have, I tell ya. Okay, so I'm getting back to my apartment maybe half an hour later. I'm expecting Sam and Freddie to possibly/hopefully be at their own homes. Plopping down on my couch sounds nice right now. But they are the first thing I see when I walk in. And they are, of course, still on the couch.

In fact, they are just as I left them. Kind of. Sam still has Freddie in the headlock, and Freddie is still bending backwards over the back of the couch to allow her to do so. But he's not struggling anymore. He's staring at the TV, just as glassy-eyed as Sam. I turn to the TV as well. The fight is still on. I wonder what is entrancing Freddie so much that he would give in to Sam. I bend over the back of the couch as well, mimicking Freddo's current position. Hmm, you know what? Watching TV is _way_ cooler this way. It's like a whole new world of television when it's upside down. The fighters look like they're smiling as they pummel each other. This makes for an interesting effect.

I make my way back to my waffley mess in the kitchen. Carly is sitting at the table working on homework. She watches me thoughtfully as I begin gluing the waffles back together. "So how was your shower?"

She shrugs. "Long. Relaxing. And how was glue shopping?"

I shrug. "Long. Frustrating. The cashier couldn't speak English. I swear they'll hire anyone these days."

Carly laughs. "Not anyone actually." She nods her head in Sam's direction. "I convinced her to try and get a job once. Value-Mart turned her down flat. I guess they had access to her permanent record or something."

Sam perks up at the sound of her name. "You talkin' about Value-Mart?" She shakes her head with distaste. "They gave my job to some chick who couldn't speak English to save her life! I mean, I may use a double negative here or there, but come on!" Freddie falls out of his TV staring trance and smiles to himself. Or probably at Sam, but she can't see him. She's still got him in the backwards choke hold. The one that's been going on for at least an hour now.

I ask Carly quiet enough so our unofficial guests won't hear, "Why do they do that?"

"The choke hold?" she whispers back.

"Yeah, that."

She examines her two best friends closely, then shakes her head. "I'm not exactly sure. You know that's just how it's always been. Since you first met them, right?"

I continue on to the torso of my waffle man/moose. "Well yeah. I was just wondering if there was a reason or something."

"Hmm..." Carly looks up to the left as she racks her brains. "I really couldn't tell you. That's just the way it is. Ever since we met Freddie in sixth grade. I think Sam asked...er _ordered_ him to lend her some lunch money the first day of middle school. And he refused." Carly smiles at the memory. "Let's just say that Sam wasn't used to being refused at the time. But hanging around Freddie with the web show and everything, she's getting a little better at it." Carly smiles again. "I distinctly remember Freddie going home with no lunch money, a black eye, and a painful wedgie that day. I'm pretty sure Mrs. Benson almost died of a heart attack."

I smile too. "Ah. Of course. Thanks for clearing that one up." I look back to the inhabitants of my couch. Freddie seems to have completely given up. His head is leaning back against one of Sam's arms. His chest is slowly rising up and down. I guess he fell asleep. And is face is back to a mere light pinkish shade. Sam let up a little on her grip when he stopped struggling.

"So, what did Freddie do to arouse the wrath of Sam this time?" I ask, putting the finishing touches my sculpture's left arm.

"I think he told her Batman isn't real," Carly answers. "Or maybe this was because he accidentally tripped over Sam in the hall today. Even though Freddie was the one who went down, Sam threatened to get him back." Carly shakes her head as she goes back to her text book. "I don't get her sometimes." Sam is still silently watching the TV screen, but a smirk takes over her blank expression. I guess she is more in tune than we thought. I notice her arms are shaking slightly. She's been holding them up long enough to completely drain them of blood. Wow. I salute her stubborn spirit.

"Sam, you should probably let Fred go now," I say timidly.

She doesn't even contemplate my suggestion. Carly decides to help me out. "Sam, seriously. You can still keep him in a headlock if he's sitting on the couch. You, of all people, should know sleeper hold positions."

Ah. Carly knows exactly what she's doing. The little stab at Sam's knowledge of the sleeper hold visibly hurts her pride. I would usually expect a comeback of some sort from the aggressively natured blonde, but I guess she's pretty exhausted at this point. She grudgingly agrees and drops her arms. Then she grabs the collar of Freddie's shirt, jerking him awake, and pulls him down onto the couch next to her. She quickly puts him back into the headlock. Freddie doesn't look surprised or angry. Poor kid is so used to this. He just leans his head back against the couch and continues his sleeping. I look at the clock. It's ten. That's, like, an hour past his bedtime. No wonder he's out. Poor kid has a bedtime. I almost gave Carly a bedtime once. Then she bombarded me with big words and well-structured sentences filled with reasoning against a bedtime. Luckily Mrs. B is working the late shift at the hospital tonight, or she'd be over here now freaking out about the danger of headlocks and having too many waffles in one place. Sam looks like she's drifting off to sleep too. Am I ever going to sit on my couch again?

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It's about one o'clock in the morning. I am just getting home. I was at Socko's cousin Cooky's restaurant. He let me put my waffle moose (oh, it's officially a moose now. I gave it antlers) in his walk in freezer. Though I turned the temperature in the room as low as it could possibly go, 'The Waffle Consumer' (which I renamed 'Canadian Waffles' in spirit of the moose) was still melting. So Socko hooked me up with the giant freezer. I put the key in the lock and open the door as quietly as I can. Sure enough, Sam and Freddie are still on my couch. With the lateness of the hour, I assume they are staying the night. You know what? I never remember Carly or myself inviting them. Not just this time, but ever! They just kind of...come. And stay. And eat (mainly Sam). I see that even in her sleep, Sam has still not given up on her head locking Freddie. Wow, this must occur more often than I thought if Freddie is so used to the headlock that he can actually fall asleep. I wonder what he did to her to deserve this. According to Carly, this wasn't that big of a deal. Carly is sitting on the other side of the couch. She and Sam are leaning against each other, fast asleep. Freddie is in about the same state, partly leaning his head against the arm of the couch and partly leaning against Sam's arm wrapped around the back of his neck.

I scoop Carly up in my arms and begin toward the steps. She will freak out much less tomorrow getting ready for school if she wakes up in her own room. I start up the stairs, then turn back to the couch when I hear some soft mumbling. I don't know who it came from, but I looked just in time to see Sam shift towards Freddie now that she doesn't have her 'Carly pillow'. She keeps him in the headlock and leans into his shoulder. He sleepily reciprocates to her movement by resting his cheek against the top of her head. Wow. I want to gag at how natural this all looks. And Sam adds to my almost being sick by finally dropping her arms from around his neck as she scoots even further into Freddie's sleeping form. Uh oh. Freddie just wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulder. Yikes. I don't want to be here when they wake up. I wonder what Sam will break on Freddie's face this time.

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	3. My couch and some conniving

**Hello wonderful people. I am continuing on with the daunting yet fun/interesting task of writing in Spencer PoV. So I hope this one is satisfactory. If you haven't figured it out by now, his accounts and stories he's telling in these one-shots are all memories he's recalling with you. But I hope that's obvious. And do you think I can make Spencer swear? I always kind of look at him as naive (though still totally a lady's man) so I don't know if he should swear. It's whatever though. So yeah...okay onward reader!  
**

**Ages, ages, ages...Hmm...Fifteen I'd say. Probably the end of Fresh year or beginning of Soph year. You can choose whichever. They are a little bit older than they are currently on the show. **

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Hello wonderful people. Assuming you are all wonderful, that is. Which you must be, seeing you have come back to me and my story. You must also have good taste. What can I say? I'm a charmer. Okay, so my last recollection of a random time on my couch, I think we left off at one in the morning after a particularity interesting evening. I'm sure you are just dying to hear what happened. Well, 'Canadian Waffle' was a hit at the museum. The moose and I got our picture in this little artsy magazine thingy. But I blinked. It was kind of a bittersweet moment seeing it in the magazine later. My eyelids are quite nice though...as far as eyelids go. The moose looked nice. I was right to go with purple for his eye color, and I have Sam and Freddie and the sleeper hold to thank for that one. Wait, what? You only care about what happened to Sam and Freddie that night? Oh. And I called you people wonderful…Okay, so I wasn't awake when Sam got up that morning. But I think, er...I'm not too sure. This took place awhile back, but I think that night lead to the morning in which she decided to douse Freddie's oblivious sleeping form's eyebrows with my leftover super glue. Freddie eventually had to shave them off. And this is not the first time that Sam's antics have caused the shaving off of Fred's eyebrows. Strange, right?

You know what else is strange? Besides the word _milk_. Meeiilllkk. Milk. Miiiiilk. Hmm...weird word. So is _garble_. I heard a guy say it on TV the other day. Gaarbowwlll...yeah. Weird stuff. That reminds me of gobble. I should make a turkey sculpture sometime. But something that is possibly even stranger than these words, Sam and Freddie's interactions. You know as well as I do that they are always fighting and hurting each other. I'm sure you've seen it too. But today, as I'm dancing around my kitchen, making spaghetti tacos, I notice a different kind of interaction between the two.

They just got done with iCarly. Carls is, of course, in the shower. Did you know with our water bill, we could support the water needs of a family of eleven? Crazy, right? And with Sam around, our grocery shopping bill could also support this large family. Possibly a small country if we did some sale shopping at Value-Mart. Freddie and Sam are, as always, camping it out on my couch. But they aren't at each other's throats this time. Like I said, it's different today. Don't get me wrong! Their actions are still backed with hate and desire to cause another person pain, but it's not pointed at each other. Not today. Today, they are scheming.

Wow. I didn't realize wow interesting it is to watch conniving Sam and Freddie, especially when they are brought together by a common enemy. This time, the name in question is a certain Mr. Ordway. I guess he gave Sam detention for putting Gibby in a trashcan and rolling him down the stairs, and Freddie is angry because he got an eighty-seven percent on his history quiz from Mr. Ordway. I told him not to worry, an eighty-seven is still a B, which is an all around cooler letter than A. If letters were people, B would be the cool, relaxed, and totally chill dude who sits on the couch and crack jokes and everyone loves him and feeds him. That leaves A to be the guy hosting the party, who's all uptight about everything, and won't let you play catch with his mom's china plates, and won't let you make out with that really hot chick in his parent's room, and tells you that you can't camp out in his front lawn and you need to go home. Am I right? Anyways, my wisdom of personification and letters didn't console Freddie too much. He gets a bit strung up when Sam can count up to his grade percent (she usually gets stuck and or distracted around ninety-four. Maybe this is why Fred gets straight A's).

So anyhoo, they are now currently plotting their revenge on the poor and unsuspecting World History professor. You should really see them plot together. It's like...like...like watching a game of ping pong. A very interesting and violent game, but ping pong nonetheless. Sam is mischievous and often thinks with her stomach as opposed to Freddie's careful and meticulous ways. They've been throwing ideas back and forth for at least an hour now. And let me tell you, this is just as (if not more) alarming as when they are in their angriest of fights. I'm just glad that I'm not on the receiving end of this vengeful plotting. Maybe I should call the school and make sure Mr. Ordway has life insurance.

"Hmm..." Freddie thoughtfully brings his hand to his chin, mirroring Sam's current position. "What are you thinking?"

She clicks her tongue as she lets the question sink into the air around her. She slowly and dramatically falls out of her trance, and turns to Freddie, looking as mischievous as that little mouse from 'Tom and Jerry.' I love that show. Carly says I'm too old to watch it. Sam's smirk widens as Freddie's eyes flash fearfully upon seeing her current expression. "I'm thinking thoughts involving sharp metal objects and rubber gloves."

"No. Can't be illegal."

"Freddork, you're such a baby. The clinker would do some good for your major lack of manliness." Freddie decides not to ruin this brief moment of working together with his retort. They go back to their brainstorming as I tend to the boiling noodles. A few minutes of silence, and Freddie seems to have come up with an idea.

"Hey! We could-,"

"Nope."

"Sam! Come on! You didn't even let me-,"

"Okay! Don't get your anti-bacterial underpants in a bundle, Freddo," she says, sinking into the back of the couch.

"Thank you. Now, I was going to suggest that we put a piece of tape over the bottom of his mouse." Sam just raises an eyebrow in the most uninterested way one can raise an eyebrow. Freddie seems a little frustrated as he reads the profile of her expression. "Then Mr. Ordway won't be able move the cursor," he explains.

Sam looks at him in disbelief. "Wow. Way to dig down deep there Fredward. That sounds like mayhem in the making." She says this in a sarcastic British accent. Not so sure why I find British accents sarcastic. 'Fredward' sounds funny when you say it in Britishness. Fred-WAAD. Interesting.

"Well, at least my idea wouldn't get us expelled!"

Sam ignores him and continues her strenuous train of thought. It's hard for her to come up with pranks sometimes when there are limits, such as being legal/Freddie-approved. Fred sinks back into the couch with a thoughtful look as well, again mimicking Sam's actions. I stir the noodles once more then place the taco shells in the oven. And then my cow puppet oven mitts ignite. My screaming and beating the fiery cow puppets against the counter doesn't cause the usual inhabitants of my couch to stir. Not even a little. Maybe it's because things frequently light up around me, and as much as they are at my house, this is nothing new to them. But it's probably because, whether fighting or conniving, when they are in the zone THEY ARE IN THE ZONE. The two friends/enemies are completely oblivious to their surroundings almost anytime they are together. Right now is a good example of their oblivious state. I don't think they even know I'm here.

So I suddenly recall that water tends to put out fires, and I hastily shove the black and white spotted mitts under the faucet. Steam rises up around me as the flames die down. I sadly examine the carnage that is my favorite oven mitts.

"Hey Freddie?" Sam asks.

"Hmm?"

"How do you feel about nudity?"

My ears perk up slightly as I hear this.

Freddie hesitates. "Uh...depends, umm...on who's nude, I guess." I watch him risk a glance at Sam. Wait. Was that just a mirror image of myself as a curious hormonal teenager in Freddo's face? Ew...way too weird. And I just made that connection. Also weird. Maybe it's just a guy thing that I noticed, being a guy. Or it was totally girly that I was able to pick that out. I have to stop watching chick flicks with Carly. Wow...I'm feeling like a creeper. I hope it's just a guy thing.

Sam remains staring straight ahead. I'm glad too. I wonder if she would've caught any longing in Freddie's expression, and if she did, there would surely be hell to pay. You know what? I hope this is just a guy thing for Freddo too. Ew. Anyways, Sam says, "Well, I was initially thinking that the nudity would be portrayed by none other than our very own, Fredward Benson."

Freddie shivers. "Sam, you know it scares me when I'm with you and you talk about me in third person."

"Yeah, well you know it scares me when you use 'uh' and 'umm' in the same sentence." She shivers as well. "Means your thoughts are traveling God knows where." Wow. Only this odd pair, who is constantly arguing, and fighting, and fiercely interacting with one another at all times would be capable of possessing these kind of fears.

Sam looks at Freddie this time. "I was hoping you'd pee on his desk."

"No! You pee on his desk!" Freddie says, visibly appalled.

"I'm a lady!"

Freddie lowers his head to his chest and itches his scalp, looking to his left and murmuring, "Barely."

"What?" Sam asks sharply. She lashes out and grabs his chin, pulling him towards her and jerking his face to look at hers. And the atmosphere just went from _tense_ to _intense_. My burnt cow mitts seem to agree with me. They let out a steamy hiss from the sink for a nice effect on the current hostility percolating from my couch.

Freddie pries her hand away from his face. There are red marks where her nails must have dug into his skin. A few of the marks are bleeding. "Okay, okay. Let's just settle down now. Breath. It's fine." He seems to be reassuring himself more than Sam as his hand travels to his jaw line. He then examines his blood covered fingers, and gives Sam an impatient look. She sits back and smiles contentedly. Freddie sits back to, not so content though. I notice that they don't bother to move back to there previous couch sitting positions they were in before Sam grabbed Freddie and forcefully pulled him toward her with painful intentions. They are practically sharing the same cushion right now. Neither of them appears to think anything of it as they go on brainstorming, but I can see excitement and fear and a bit of experimental discomfort in both of them. And, like I am some expert on teenage feelings who watches the same chick flicks over and over, I am able to pick out these minute details. Creepy? I know. But hey, I'm sensitive ladies...Consider me virtually winking at you right now. Oh, and if you are a man, my sincere apologies, sir.

I gingerly place my burnt oven mitts on the counter and hang my head for a moment of grief. They are done. Gone. In an instant. Something as simple as taco shells and ovens, and suddenly I will never see my cow friends again. Everything I hold dear gets torn away. Every time. First my couch, then my fridge, then my remote. And now fire has to add to my misery. _Hey all-consuming fire, why don't you just rip my heart out of my chest and wear it as jewelry, you sicko!  
_

"Hey Fredster, you're good with computers and stuff, right?" Sam asks, looking up at Freddie.

He looks down at her. "Wow, Sam. I have been your technical producer for three years, and you really have to ask me this?" She just shrugs. I notice how not hostile they are with each other right now. Then I notice how close there faces are. They still have yet to look away from one another. I let out a loud cough. I know it's not likely that, uh...well, the cough was just in case. They hold their gaze for a moment longer before Sam looks away, getting her thoughts together about the prank that is going to involve Freddie's computer skills.

"You know how Ordway has us take note on his PowerPoint presentations?"

Freddie seems to pick up where Sam is going with this. "Yeah..." he says, smiling with Sam-like mischief.

"It's just too easy," Sam muses.

"Anything in particular?" Freddie asks. They're both being really cool about it now, but I can sense their excitement and anticipation all the way from the kitchen.

"Hmm...we will need to get a picture of Ordy's face."

Freddie opens up his lap top that he always seems to have within reach. Nerd. Heh, just kidding. But seriously. "So it's to be photoshopping," he says. "Impressive, Puckett. Cruel, but impressive."

Sam's smirk grows wider as she watches Freddie hack into everything humanly possible that has anything to do with the faculty of Seattle Westlake High. Within seconds, he's found a Sam-approved picture of their hated teacher. Sam clicks her tongue excitedly. "So, what kind of body do you think would complement Ordway's saggy features best?"

Freddie takes this into deep consideration. Again, they're in the zone. The ridiculousness of this question is quite irrelevant in the zone. "Hmm..." Freddie's tongue is peeking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he begins pressing keys rapidly, doing something magical in the world of tech, I'm sure. Sam is watching him in a very fond and proud sort of way. As if she can't resist, she reaches up and ruffles his fluffy hair. Freddie doesn't look away from the computer screen, but a toothy grin spreads across his face. "I've got it."

Sam leans into him to get the full view of the image on the screen. He takes in the contact with happy surprise. Then Sam's eyes widen and she smiles brightly up at Freddie. "An octopus? Inventive. Ordy looks alright with eight legs." Then Sam leans even further into Freddie, propping herself up with an elbows on his lap, as she turns the lap top toward herself. "But I was thinking that a stab at his sexual orientation is more appropriate at this time." Freddie has his hands up in the air, not quite sure what to do with them. He slowly comes to a decision and awkwardly places one on Sam's back, and other on the lap top. Sam is too engrossed in her photoshopping to notice his actions. Or maybe she just doesn't care. When I notice that his hand is rather close to Sam's on the keyboard, I quickly go back to making my spaghetti tacos.

"Oh...That's genius, Sam!" I can't help it, and I look up again to see Freddie absolutely shaking with excitement. Sam is trying to play it off cool, but she's quite thrilled with her work as well. "He's a mermaid!" Freddie begins a fit of throaty laughs. "And...Heh...is pirate feeling him up?" Freddie is clutching his side, as he continues laughing.

Sam is laughing uncontrollably now as well. She leans back into Freddie, and slaps his knee. Then she completely breaks down into a crazy fit of giggles. Freddie can't help himself, and begins giggling as well. If she wasn't too busy trying to regulate her laughter and her breathing, she would totally be bashing him about giggling like a little girl. Wow. I am wanting to see this picture right now. Sam almost falls off the couch after a rather giddy giggle. Freddie, still laughing, wraps his arms around Sam to hold her in place next to him in front of the computer screen. Sam almost stops laughing, but gets another glimpse of the image on the screen and it starts all over again. Seeing people laugh like this makes me incredibly jealous. I like to laugh too.

Freddie has finally stopped his laughing. He is now heaving short breaths, still holding Sam. I stoop over the computer screen and see the picture. Mr. Ordway's angry face on the body of a mermaid being carried off by a very eager pirate. The next thing I know, I'm rolling on the floor laughing heartily. Sam regains her composure and pats Freddie's cheek, letting him know that she's good now. He lets go and they both sigh happily. "I can't wait to put this up on Monday," Sam says, still short of breath. "Mr. Ordway will rue the day he punished me." I roll a bit more, then sadly realize the moment has passed. I sigh too and walk back out to the kitchen. I just can't reach their zone.

* * *

**Heh. Okay, so first of all, those of you ladies reading this, I hope that you didn't find Spencer's flirting with you too weird when he's talking about how he's sensitive. Haha. Okay... **

**And if you read iCan't Stand Her, this starts the pirate hate Mr. Ordway has with Sam. Okay, thanks. Reviews please. Bye.  
**


	4. My couch the MMA arena

**Hey people. Thank you for returning. And thank you for the reviews. And thank you for thinking I can somewhat write Spencer.  
Some of you mentioned that you like the 'seddie contact' from the last chapter. Heh. Just wait till you read this. **

And **AwkwardSquirrel**, the _meesen _thing in here is totally for you as a reward for _holy pudding_.

**Ages in this one…probably around fifteen or sixteen again. Beginning of sophomore year.**

**

* * *

**Hiya. Welcome back. I bet you're wondering what I've been up to lately. Ha! Yeah right! Just kidding. I know why you're here...They aren't even that amusing! It's just the same thing every time; fight, ignore world outside of each other, fight more, argue, scheme, subconsciously flirt, break stuff, steal my couch, fight. Seriously, I'm way cooler and more versatile than Sam and Freddie. I set things on fire, and make funny noises, and build mooses out of waffles! Hmm..._mooses._ That doesn't sound right. Is the plural of moose just plain _moose_? Or is it meese? Or meesen...Yeah, I think it's meesen. Seriously. Waffely meesen! You can't get more exciting than that. Jeeze, I apologize for not being a boyishly cute yet nerdy teen or an overly assertive blonde chick.

And speaking of my masculine charms (we were speaking of those, right? No? We are now), guess who has a date with the hot movie store chick. No! Not Lucky the hobo. Me! And I didn't even have to woo her in cyberspace with WhyNotDateMe online. And more importantly, she's never been in jail or once been a dude. Her name is Mandy. Mandy rhymes with candy. So I'm pretty much psyched out of my mind for our date. Sorry ladies.

So I'm in such a good mood right now, Freddie and Sam's presence on my couch doesn't bother me when I enter my apartment. "Where's Carly?"

They remain entranced with the TV, as they answer simultaneously, "Shower."

"Of course. When is she not in the shower?" I head to the kitchen and hop up onto the counter, swinging my legs back and forth and sighing happily every few seconds.

Sam seems a bit annoyed. "Stop being happy. We are trying to watch an MMA fight. You can't be _happy_ during the fight." Important fight. She means bidniz this time. She is decked out in a pair of boxing gloves and an old purple jersey with some baggy sweatpants that I think belong to Freddie. That would explain his annoyed expression (she tends to steal things). Sam's expression is of pure intensity, complemented by her official MMA headband and the black war paint she's drawn on her cheeks. She looks like a fighter and a football player combined into one, small, blonde girl. Though she is accompanied by two guys (one being myself), she is probably supplying the most testosterone to the room at this current time. She looks over at me. "Stop sighing like you're a little schoolgirl and get in here and watch the fight!" I want to tell her that Freddie's here so she is not supposed to be yelling at _me_, but I'm a bit frightened at the moment. Her war paint makes her look more menacing than usual. And that is very menacing, my friends.

So I sigh happily once more, and join them in my living room. I see that the middle couch cushion is empty. Hmm...Dare I risk it? Yes. I miss the comfort of my butt on my couch too much at this point to not risk it. Ignoring the two empty chairs on either side of the room, I plop down between Fred and Sam. Both of them immediately look at me, and I notice how awkward my action was. The couch seems to have shrunk over the years. Or maybe the kiddos have just grown. Especially Freddie. He's been bigger than Sam for awhile now. Good for Freddo. But his size is not a good thing at this current time. My leg is smashed up uncomfortably close to his right now. The fact that we are both wearing shorts make this especially weird. And I am pretty sure I am completely crushing Sam to my right. I think she just bit me. My sigh is not as happy this time.

I get up and plop down on one of the chairs. It's not as fun watching an MMA fight when you're all alone on your own little piece of furniture. It's actually kind of scary. The large, tattooed, and muscle-bulging men grunt a lot. I hug a pillow close to my chest. They're frightening.

I just want to sit on my couch. That is it. That's all I want. Well, I could use a new pair of puppety oven mitts. I'm thinking giraffes this time. But other than that, sitting on my own couch is my greatest desire. It has kind of become a ritual for Sam to stay over here almost every night. And if it's not Sam, Freddie will have a spout of rebellion by spending the night on a girl's couch when his mom is working the night shift at the hospital. But I encourage these spouts of rebellion. The kid really needs to break away from his insane mother sometime. Oh, shes's scary. And Sam...well, I really have no idea what her story is, but I won't kick her out either. So, I guess I'm just a good guy, letting them camp it out in here all the time. Though I imagine if I ever invite Mandy over here, things will get pretty awkward with these two on my couch.

The fight seems to be coming to an end. After the final knockout (some dude named Cliff won. Cliff? That's a landform), I get up and stretch, then walk to the kitchen and begin gathering my supplies. Thanksgiving is less than a month away, so I think a turkey sculpture is in order at this time. And I've been dying to make one. I am packing up the artificial, multi-colored, and oversized feathers when I hear a dull thud followed by Freddie's moan.

"Sam, not now." I look up in time to see Sam giving Freddie another not-so-playful punch on the shoulder with her boxing glove. "Cut it out. MMA time is over." But Sam is still pumped up from the fight. She is just getting started.

She begins her third punch's wind up while saying, "You're such a pansy, Benson. MAN UP!" She lands her punch squarely on his chest. He gasps for air a second, then rubs the sore spot Sam just created on his sternum. Sam tuts and rolls her eyes. "You're such a fragile little girl. How am I supposed to have any fun with you?"

Freddie does not enjoy cracks at his manhood. "Shut up Sam! Just because you are an aggressive brute doesn't mean the rest of the world wants to fight all the time!" Sam cocks her arm back again, and a large grin spreads across her face when Freddie bats it away angrily. Now she's got him.

She brings her other glove around swiftly to meet the side of his unsuspecting face. Freddie's shock quickly turns to anger as he forcefully pins her arm down against the middle cushion separating them. Only Sam can provoke Freddie to the point of violence. And with the arrogance oozing out of her now, I can tell she knows it. Her eyes are filled with blissful glee as Freddie slugs her shoulder. With her free gloved hand, she hits him back harder. So Freddie grabs that one and pins it down as well. He gives the struggling Sam a triumphant grin. Like I said before, he's bigger now. And along with being bigger comes being stronger. But Sam's still got that feisty, cocky, aggressive, spunky thing she does. This is a fair fight as far as I'm concerned. I sit crossed legged on the kitchen table and rest my hands in my lap, awaiting Sam's next move.

Freddie still has her arms in a tight hold against the couch cushion. Sam seems to be contemplating a few options at the moment. Finally that scary smirk appears, and she eyes Freddie slyly. Then she headbutts his face. Sam-one. Freddie-zippo.

Freddie reels back, releasing Sam's arms. He rubs his forehead tenderly. "Sam-,"

The angry blonde decides this is the right time to sucker punch Fred in the gut. Okay, another point for Sam. She looks rather amused as she allows Freddie to catch his lost breath. Then Freddie gets this crazed look in his eyes and lunges toward Sam. She could totally see it coming, but she allows him to immobilize her down against the couch. Probably so he will have enough confidence to continue the fight. Probably...hopefully. Teenagers, yeesh. I guess I have to give that point to Freddie. But Sam isn't going to let this get to his head. She pulls her knees up against her chest and kicks out. He makes a guttural sound as he goes flying back to the other side of the couch. Suddenly, he and Sam have switched positions. She is sitting on his belly, punching every inch of him with her red gloves. Sam-three, Freddo-one. Freddie is able to shove her off, and he pulls his legs into a ready crouch. Sam mirrors his action on the other side of the couch. They watch each other in raw excitement and anticipation for a second. Round two. Fight!

Freddie is the first to move. He hesitantly lashes out at Sam as if testing the waters. Right when she sees his hand twitch as he begins this movement, Sam lashes out too. Her gloved fist meets his forearm and they hold like this for a minute, glaring each other down. "Wow. I didn't think this was possible, but you look even scarier with the black marks on your cheeks," Freddie says.

"Shut up and make your move, Fredqueer."

Fredqueer, er...Freddie. I meant Freddie! Anyways, Freddie does make his move. He pummels into Sam and traps her against the other side of the couch again, jabbing at her ribs and kneeing her legs. This is probably the most violent I've seen Freddie in awhile. His mom must've given him a tick bath recently, and he just doesn't feel like dealing with Sam today. And Sam is loving it.

So, I guess that's two points for Freddie? I'm counting a point for his snide remark earlier about the black marks on her face. Sam-three, Freddo-three. And things are just getting interesting. Okay, maybe they are a _bit_ amusing. Sam brings her gloves up and gives Freddie a few left hooks to the face (that's a point). Freddie dizzily shakes them off and, since his hands are busy with bringing pain to Sam's ribs, he tries to use his upper body to force her arms down. But this causes him to lose his hold, and Sam takes advantage of the moment. She rolls out from under him onto the coffee table. She stands up quickly, holding her gloves to her face and bobbing up and down like a boxer would. Freddie stands up on the couch facing Sam.

My furniture is not looking too stable at the moment. "Uh, kiddos? I don't mind if you use my living room as an MMA arena, but could you not stand on stuff?" Neither seems to hear me. Their concentration is solely on causing the other pain at this moment. Sam jabs at Freddie, who ducks to the left. Sam does not enjoy her punch being dodged. She lets go of a grunt worthy of the scary men on TV. Freddie then suffers another blow to the gut. He sputters for air as he falls back on the couch. Then Sam crouches into a leap, spinning in midair, and landing with her shoulder crushing Freddo's agonized face. Ouch. So Freddie pushes her off, but she is still punching the pudding out of him. Freddie dips low and shoulders her in the gut once, then swiftly bounds over the back of the couch and skids into the kitchen. Sam shows no signs of mercy as she slowly follows after him, pounding her gloved fist together with each step.

"Sam, come on. Don't do anything irrational here," Freddie says. The frying pan he is holding out in front of him for protection is shaking violently like the rest of him. Sam looks as though thoughts of all things irrational are going thrwough her mind as she inches toward him. Then she lets out this strange and random battle cry, and takes off after him. Freddie dodges her wild punches as she chases him around the kitchen, knocking over everything remotely possible. I turn and reposition my sitting to watch the fight in it's new location. Time to count up the points. Okay, uh, I think it's Sam-five, and Fred-four. Alright, round three. Ding, ding, ding!

Sam fakes left and Freddie takes the bait and goes right. But she is expecting this, and she kicks her leg out at his feet. The frying pan makes a loud clatter as Freddie lets it go, then he falls to the ground as well. I'd say that one is also Sam's point. Freddie rubs his back while on the ground for a second, before unexpectedly grabbing the smirking Sam by the ankles. He pulls her down as he stands up. Point for Freddie. Then he slides underneath the table I'm sitting on. I lean upside down over the edge to make sure he's alright, offering an encouraging smile, but his concentration is still elsewhere. I see fright building up in his eyes. I assume Sam is charging him at this moment. So I pull my head up, just in time too, before Sam slides under the table as well. I hear a moan from Freddie after an exceptionally loud thud sounding a bit like a frying pan on the skin. I'm not giving her that point. Weapons aren't fair.

I'm jolted around a bit as Freddie crawls over Sam and out from under the table. Sam is right on his tail. He looks like he might be regretting his decision to go along with her playful wrestling at this point. I'm not regretting his decision. Okay, I may have lied earlier. These kids _are_ incredibly amusing. They are pulling me away from making a turkey sculpture, and that's not to be taken lightly, my friends. Freddie does his best to dodge Sam as she's chasing him around the room again, holding the frying pan like a baseball bat in her gloved hands. Freddie ducks as she takes an angry swing. She spins around on the spot with the pan still extended. She just knocked over the stack of plates next to the sink. They shatter as they meet the ground. But this does not faze Sam in the least bit. She's just mad her blow missed Freddie. So she turns on him with a death stare and lowers her shoulder, ramming into his frightened form. He comes flying back toward me. Uh oh! I quickly jump off the table, as Freddie slides across it, sending my colorful turkey feathers everywhere.

So first I'm angry. I admittedly get distracted quite often, and stacking those feathers took me a long time! But then my eyes fall upon my empty couch. Empty couch. Empty..._couch_. I let the words sink in then joyful desire over comes me. I skip over to the couch and breath in the moment before flopping down onto the cushiony goodness that is my beloved couch. _I missed you baby_. But our wonderful reunion is short lived as something crashes into my back. "Can we please have a moment?" I hear myself yelling. I wonder if they know I'm talking about my couch. I wonder if they know I'm talking at all. Probably not. The zone is rather thick today.

I crane my neck around to see Sam in a heap on my back, gasping for air. Then I see Freddie standing at the end of the couch, also breathing heavily, red in the face with a few of my colored feathers in his hair. Wow. I'm thoroughly impressed. He threw Sam! Point for Freddie. But he looks less than impressed with himself. He might even look regretful as he takes in the fact that he ruined my feather collection. Well, actually it's probably the fact that he just hurt Sam causing his regret. Yeah, that seems more accurate as he carefully helps her off my back. But Sam is not regretting anything right now. This gives her the rush she needs to tackle her helping hand onto the couch. Yes, as you may be envisioning right now, they are on top of me. That's it! No more points for either of them! As Freddie shifts to the left, dodging Sam's wild punch, I roll out from underneath them onto the coffee table. I lay there for a moment, enjoying the weightless feeling I have right now after getting out from under the fearsome duo. They continue wrestling angrily on my couch for a few minutes as I enjoy the coolness of the coffee table against my face. If I can't enjoy my couch, might as well enjoy the next best thing, right? And I _do _enjoy lounging on objects that should never be lounged upon.

It's been a few minutes of violent, non-stop action from my couch. Freddie has the upper hand right now. But Sam is most definitely not cowering beneath him. She wraps her boxing gloves around his neck, and pulls herself up to his face, biting his ear. Oh yeah! Get it Sam! Umm...well...alright FINE! I'm still awarding points. That one goes to Sam. Freddie lets out a painful howl as I notice another presence in the room. Carly's shower seems to be over. She is absolutely livid as she takes in the feathers spread out around the room, and the shattered porcelain by the sink. She strides angrily into the kitchen, coming back to the couch with her spray bottle. She wastes no time in squirting her oblivious wrestling friends in their faces. This seems to bring them back to reality. They both look up innocently and slightly shocked at Carly. Freddie has his arms wrapped around Sam's neck, who just froze her clawing at his forearm with her boxing gloves at the sight of Carly. Wait. Does he have Sam in a headlock? Holy pudding! That's definitely worth two points.

Then I feel a cold sensation on my face. I look up to see Carly glaring, the dreaded spray bottle still pointed at me. "Why are you on the coffee table?"

I sit up slowly. Sam and Freddie are still in their unusual and reversed sleeper hold position, watching Carly and me with their hilariously matching, surprised expressions. "Because the couch was being put to use," I say. Sam and Freddie look simultaneously to Carly, awaiting her reply.

She yells, "Couldn't you just sit on a chair?" I was going to answer that the chairs are super boring, but she isn't even close to being done. "And why are there feathers everywhere? And who broke the plates?" She whips her head around to glare accusingly at Sam. Freddie's eyes widen at the threatening look Carly is giving her best friend. He tightens his grip around Sam's neck and pulls her into him in more of a protective kind of choke hold. If those can at all be protective, that is. Carly turns back to me. "And why didn't you stop their fight? I've been hearing it for the last ten minutes now! And you haven't said anything!"

"I told them that they couldn't stand on the furniture," I say quietly, as I get up from the coffee table. Truth is, it was just too entertaining for me to step in. Okay..._and _I was a kind of scared, I guess. Sam probably would've ripped my head off if I tried to penetrate their little zone at all in the last ten minutes. She is in MMA mode. Freddie is a brave little soul. Or maybe she would've bitten my ear. Poor Freddo.

Carly is not amused at all. "Okay, well YOU can clean up the mess, young man!"

_Young man_? "Uh, I'm eleven years older than you, kiddo."

I flinch slightly as she screams, "Then act like it!" She turns back to Sam and Freddie, who are still both rather taken aback to find that there are other people in the room. "Will you let go of each other now? I am not going to be happy if there is blood on my couch." Hey, it's _my _couch. I would've voiced this fact, but Carly is still livid and scary right now. So I'm just going to go clean up the feathers now, like a good little boy. Freddie and Sam are so deep into their state of shock that Carly has to pry an unmoving Freddie out of his death grip on Sam's head. This helps them to sort of snap out of it.

Sam looks at Freddie. "I won, Dorkboy."

"No! I won. I was winning when the fight ended," Freddie states, settling himself into the corner of the couch. Sam mirrors him on the opposite side of their couch. Uh, I mean _my _couch. Jeeze...

"Actually you guys are tied. Seven to seven." I pick an orange spotted feather from Sam's mussed hair.

She looks up at me, impressed that I had been keeping score. Then she glares back at Freddie. "Sorry Fred-waad. Mama plays to win." And with that, she punches him, straight on, in the face. Freddie's hand flies up to his throbbing nose as he glares back at Sam. She smirks and looks back at me expectantly.

"Uh, Sam-eight. Freddie-seven, I guess."

"Suck it, Benson!"

"Shut up Sam! And wipe that smirk off your face, before I wipe it off for you!"

"Oh, well come on then, Fredcakes! I'd _love _to see you try." Freddie lunges toward Sam again, but before he can wrap his hands around her throat, Carly is spraying him in the face. He sputters for a moment, then glares up at Carly, who is shaking her head down at him. I stifle my laugh, for the sake of Carly's wrath, and continue collecting the variously sized and colored feathers.

"I need a smoothie." Sam and Freddie perk up at Carly's words. Sam rips off her gloves, throws them at Freddie, and they both follow after her. Smoothies! I skip excitedly along behind them but Carly gives me a livid stare, then Sam offers me a smile and slams the door in my face. I frown as I turn back to my couch. Hey...It's empty. Hmm...

Then Carly's voice from out in the hall stops me on my way toward the heavenly example of cushiony wonder. "And this place better be clean before we get home!" I sigh and rest my palm on my couch for a moment, before making my way to the mess that is the kitchen.

* * *

**Haha. Okay, I am not trying to write Carly off as a bad guy or anything. I just think she'd be really angry if she came downstairs on the scene that's going on in this chapter. Poor Spencer. And I know that normally Freddie would run away from Sam or she would just beat the crap out of him, but I think this might be an accurate portrayal of how a physical fight would go if they were a little older (and Freddie was a little stronger).  
**

**So thanks for reading. I'm not sure yet, but the next few chapters might be around the same time. It's fun to write them at sixteen. Actually, it's just fun to write them from Spencer's PoV. I've always thought it would be interesting to see what Spence thinks of them. Heh. So...review, thanks.  
Alright, PEACE!  
**


	5. Mandy meets my couch

**Guys, I am seriously sorry it took me so long to update. I have had eight tests this week (and I only have seven classes. I know, right?) So...sorry. I would usually just cram and get the next chapter out, but with eight test in three days...sorry.  
Somebody help me out. Isn't usu. short for usual. Like 'yoozsh' or something? **

**Ages: mid sophomore year. Sixteen. Enjoy. **

* * *

…'Sup?

Right, well, let's just get to the point. I know why you're here. I'm getting into the groove of things now. Don't worry, I won't bother you with talk of affairs in _my_ life anymore…Oh my meesen! I bet you guys are wanting to know how my date with Mandy went! Well, I'm not going to tell you. You guys just use me for my memories of my sister's weird friends on my couch. Why would I ever reward you with details of my thrilling and totally awesome personal life?

Okay, so, I took her out to dinner and a movie. First date, the usu. You know. Then I asked if we could go out again sometime. And she was like 'OH YEAH, Spence! You're the man! And you're so hot, and charming, and suave as hell.' or something like that. Well, that's how it sounded in my head at least. So, second date we climbed to the top of the water tower at McKennin park and flew kites. Then we were chased down by security because supposedly climbing the water tower with out motive or an orange construction suit is slightly illegal. But she must have had a good time though, because we went out yet again. And then again. And again. Oh, speaking of illegal, I have a story to tell you guys. Heh hem…

I am just arriving home from the pet store. I was finding a replacement fish for the now deceased Phillipe. Oh, I feel like such a traitor. But Phillipe would've wanted me to be happy, right? Right? Ugh. Okay so, I didn't end up getting a fish that day anyway. But not just because of my guilt. I, uh, bought a bird. Well, I never really _bought _it. See this is where the 'illegal' comes into play.

"Ahhh! They're gonna find me! They're gonna take me away! I'm too young to share a cell with a large and lonely man named Borris!"

"What makes you think his name will be Borris?" Freddie asks, looking down at me from his seat on the couch.

I stop my writhing on the floor for a moment and answer, "Just a whim."

"Maybe it'll be Duke, or Spike, or something cooler than Borris," Sam chimes in. "Like Rock. The day I turn eighteen, I'm changing my name to Rock."

"Yeah," Freddie says, stifling his laugh. "Rock. That's totally you. Rock Marie Puckett. Hmm..."

Sam smirks. "And you can come along to the courthouse with me, Fredward. You need a name that's more _you._ Like Susan. Or Pink Mystery would also work."

Freddie crosses his arms. "Pink Mystery? Are you serious?"

"Totally! It's got that whole...unicorn vibe to it. _So _you," Sam says, stealing the bag of chips from Freddie's hands.

"Excuse me, Rock and Pink Mystery? You guys are supposed to be consoling me," I say weakly, still on the ground beside the couch. This is the closest I've been to my couch in awhile. Sad, I know.

"Wow, Sam. I'm going to be very angry if that name sticks."

Sam's mischievous smile spreads across her face. "I will do my best to make sure it does, Mr. Benson. Er, Pink Mystery, I mean."

Before Freddie can yell at her, I moan, "Guys..."

Sam makes a face at Freddie, who just stole the chips back. "Don't worry Spence. The clinker isn't all that bad. I mean, _you_ might get ripped a part-,"

"Thank you Sam. Very comforting." I sigh and roll under the coffee table. This is as close to crawling into a dark hole as I'm going to get right now.

"Why are we talking about jail?" Carly just came downstairs from her shower. She is giving Sam a concerned look.

"Hey, don't look at me! I haven't committed a felony since that time we went into that gas station and I had no money...but they had so much beef jerky." Sam sighs and gets this far off look in her eyes.

Carly takes the open place on the couch between Sam and Freddie. "Sam, that was this morning."

Sam smiles sweetly at Carly. "So...you're looking fabulous today. New shirt?" She leans across Carly to steal another handful of chips from Freddie.

"No, I've had it for two years. And you should know that. You steal it all the time." Sam only smiles wider, and Carly gives in, smiling back. Sam is incredibly lucky that she met Carls, or she'd probably have no friends. The fact that Carly has to be the most patient person in the world has become quite apparent over the past few Sam-filled years.

Carly leans back, sticking a hand in the bag of chips on Freddie's lap, and putting her feet up on the coffee table. This looks so unnatural. I mean Carly, Sam, and Freddie. Best friends. The trio. That's natural and all. But the couch is...er, Freddie and Sam's spot, I guess. I don't know. I feel so creepy explaining this. The scene just looks strange with Carly sitting in the middle of it. Not that she comes unwelcomed or anything. She is the only one who really cares about my current ordeal. "What's wrong Spence? And why are you under the coffee table?" she asks.

"Because I'm a criminal," I mumble into the carpet.

"What did you do?"

"I stole a bird." I roll out from under the coffee table and mope into the kitchen.

"A bird?" Carly gets up and follows me. Sam immediately scoots closer to Freddie. Wait, what? Then she grabs the bag of chips away from him and sticks it in her shirt. Ah, that's more like it.

"Sam give them back," Freddie whines helplessly as I pull the white sheet from the rusty birdcage. It's contents squawk noisily.

"It's a parrot!"

"No Carly, not a parrot! Don't be insensitive. He's a Blue-and-Yellow Macaw," I inform her proudly. I glance back over at my couch and watch Sam as she realizes she can't eat the chips while they're in her shirt. She hastily pulls them out and grabs a handful, but she can't conceal them again before Freddie steals them back.

"Right, I'm sorry. The _Blue-and-Yellow Macaw_. You stole him?" She reaches her fingers into the cage and strokes the bird's back.

"Uh, yeah. I mean, they've been keeping him in the back at Pet-World forever! Diggory needed a change of scenery!"

"Diggory? You named him? And you named _Diggory_?"

"Yeah," I begin as I unlatch Diggory's cage. "I was thinking it should be something elegant. Something distinguished, you know? My next choice was Kingsley."

"Or you could've named him Freddie!" Sam calls from the couch. "Then we could teach him to say, 'I like boys' or something Freddie-ish." She leans into Fred and grabs at the chips.

He slaps her hand away. "_Or_ we could name him Sam and have him say, 'I can out eat most grown men'!"

Sam doesn't look offended. "That's right."

"Now, now children," I say as I let Diggory climb onto my arm. Then I burst out into a fit of giggles. "Oh! Ahh. Ha, heh. Carly! It tickles!"

Carly lifts the blue bird from my arm and sets him on the counter. "Spencer? You realize you need to take him back, right?"

I scoop the bird up in my arms. "NO! They had Diggy cooped up in this little cage in a dark corner. He's a free spirit. We can't just take him back."

"Okay, what exactly happened? What caused you to steal him?" Carly is shaking her head. She does that a lot when trying to figure out my motives for things.

"Well, I only had enough money to buy a fish. Dig here was two hundred dollars. So, I tucked him under my shirt and high-tailed it out of there," I say, trying to hide the guilt in my voice.

Carly sighs. "Spencer-,"

"But I couldn't help it! I saw him and it was like...like...like fire burning inside of me. We were just attached, right off the bat. We just-," I pause as I watch Sam hit Freddie on the back of the head with the remote and steal the chips back, "-have so much chemistry."

Carly rolls her eyes. "You and the bird have chemistry? Wow." But she's not angry. She's smiling. "I guess Diggory is kind of pretty. Where did you get the cage?"

"I was going to use it for the torso of my sculpture of Godzilla eating lasagna." Sam perks up at the word 'lasagna', and is momentarily distracted from keeping the chips away from Freddie. When he sees this, he quickly wraps both arms around her from the back, trying to pry her hands away from the chips.

Carly giggles. I guess man-eating lizards and Italian food strike her as funny. She follows me as I make my way into the living room, just in case I need to stop a fight that is sure to break out eventually. "Alright, well, the bird does add a bit to the living room scene, I guess. You can keep him."

"YES!" I pick Carly up off the ground as I hug her tightly. The bird in my arms gets a little flustered at this. He takes off from my shoulder and glides over to the oblivious Freddie and Sam, landing on the back of the couch. He watches, amused, as the stubborn friends play tug-of-war over the chips.

"But..."

I set Carly down and look at her. "But?"

"We are heading down there right now to pay for him."

I sigh. "Yeah, yeah. Alright. You have two hundred dollars lying around? I lost my wallet."

Sam suddenly stops her current biting down on Freddie's hand in an effort to get him to let go of the bag. "Oh, here." She pulls something brown and leathery from her back pocket and tosses it to me. Ah. That's where my wallet went. Of course.

Carly crosses her arms. "Now Sam, what did I tell you about stealing people's wallets?"

She thumps Freddie on the head before answering in a bored voice, "That it's illegal and rude. I know, I know." She flicks Fred's nose as she rips the bag out of his hands. Freddie retaliates by slugging her in the arm and reaching for the bag again.

"Just give me a handful!"

"No, Dorkface! Get your own!"

"Those were mine before you took them!" Freddie yells back.

Sam smirks. "You're not aloud to eat trans fat, Fredweird." Sam stuffs a few of the greasy potato chips in her smirking mouth. "You signed a contract with Crazy. I remember that day quite vividly."

Freddie scowls at the recollection. "Yeah, the day you decided to test out your 'cosmic wedgie' on me."

Sam sighs, content with this memory. "Yes. Yes, it was."

Before Freddie can retort, I come in with, "Right. Well, I'm just gonna be on my way now." Neither seems to hear me as they glare pointedly at each other. I wave my hands in front of their defiant faces. Nothing. Of course. Why do I even bother? I whisper to Carly, "Maybe you should stay here and play referee for these two."

Carly shakes her head. "No. You obviously need someone to watch you. You might come home with an iguana if I don't come."

She looks at her angry friends. Freddie reaches for the bag one more time. Sam pulls it away and slaps his hand, waving her finger and saying, "Ah, ah, ahh...Mrs. B would be _so_ disappointed." Then she devours another handful of chips and makes a satisfied 'Mmm' sounds as her eyes roll into the back of her head. Freddie huffs angrily.

Carly turns back to me. "They'll be alright for an hour or so."

"Okay well Sam and Freddie," I say, setting Diggory on the coffee table. "Keep an eye on him. Don't let him eat anything with food coloring. And don't let him use the elevator. And don't let Lewbert see him. And don't teach him any pirate terminology." This last one was mainly pointed at Sam. Then, to even it out, I look at Freddo, "And don't let Sam eat him."

At this time, Sam guiltily drops her desirable stare at Diggory. "I wasn't gonna eat him."

"Just taking precautions," I say, grabbing my coat and following Carly to the door.

Carly decided to add to my list of orders. "And, _please_ don't kill and or, mainly you Sam, eat each other. I need you both for iCarly tonight."

Freddie is looking a bit smug as Sam yells, "Why does everybody always assume that I'm going to eat living things?"

I hear Freddie yelling something about her not being able to control what she consumes, whether it has a beating heart or not, as I close the door behind us. Alright, it'll be fine. They're still fighting. When they're quiet, that's when I'm worried.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Guess who Carly and I ran into outside of Pet-World! Wow...you're right. Yeah, it's Mandy. Hmm...I'm impressed. That was a bit anticlimactic of you to guess though. You kind of marshed my mallow just now. Okay, so anyhoo, Carls and I ran into Mandy when we were leaving the store. She was buying food for her goldfish. Yes, she has goldfish. I know, we're meant to be. We were planning to go out on Friday, but I thought it would be appropriate to invite her back to my house. She hadn't seen any of my art work yet, or tasted my delectable spaghetti tacos, or seen my parrot. So she is with us as we are making our way up to apartment 8C.

I grasp the handle as I insert the key, turning back to Mandy and Carls. "Now Mandy, I think it would be appropriate to warn you at this time about the battle scene we may be walking in upon."

"What battle scene?"

Carly adds, "My friends, Freddie and Sam. They kind of...try to kill each other at times. We left them home alone, so we don't know what to expect."

"Oh, you never mentioned those two before," Mandy tells me.

"That's because I like you, and I was putting off the explanation of my couch's usual inhabitants as long as possible. I still don't think you're ready for it."

Mandy smirks. "Oh come on. You have me all curious now. Let's meet these Freddie and Sam characters."

I nod gravely as I slowly open the door. And the chaos in the living room measures up to our forewarning. The first thing I notice is the vast amount of chips strewn across the floor. Then I see that the coffee table is tipped upside down. Diggory is flying around the room, squawking loudly, searching for a place to land. He settles on the TV but flies off immediately as a few chips are thrown his way. They came from Sam and Freddie, who are standing on my couch, still fighting over the almost empty bag. "See?"

"Wow. You were right. This is quite like a battle scene," Mandy laughs. But she's real cool about it. She just picks up a chip and tosses it in her mouth as she makes her way toward the frightened blue bird perched timidly on the arm of a chair. She picks him up and sets him on her shoulder, feeding him a chip as well. She's so cool, and good with animals. And she just ate a chip off the ground, which I think is uber awsome because most girls I've dated would've been like 'Ew...' or something annoying. Mandy is perfect. Ahh...okay...I could gush more if you'd like. I haven't even begun to explain that quirky little half-smile thing she does that makes me melt like flippin butter or some other unnamed melty object. Like wax. Preferably crayons. Preferably the metallic gold crayon that only comes in specially marked boxes. I ate one once. They taste as much like wax as they look. I ate soap once too. Hmm...yeah, not much better.

So anyhoo, Mandy makes me feel like a metallic gold crayon. But I can't stand here and ogle at her for too long. Someone needs to stop the current mayhem taking place on my couch. I set the coffee table upright, and stand on it so I'm level with Fred and Sam. I grab Sam's arm before she can claw Freddie's face. Then I grab the chips from Freddie's hands and say, "Guys, please. Just lay off each other for, like, a second."

Sam drops her ready arms and sighs. Then she says, "Alright, that's a second," and goes for Freddie's face again. I look to Carly for help. She is way ahead of me, holding her spray bottle pointed ready at their faces. I duck out of the way as she begins her well-practiced dousing of her best friends. They emerge from each other's grips sputtering water and both a little red in the face.

"Seriously guys," Carly says. Freddie sighs as he drops back into a sitting position. Sam follows suit, with a little more of an angry 'umph' as she hits the couch. I look over at Mandy who is smiling at both of them.

"Who's the lady?" Sam asks in a very Sam-ish and rude sort of way.

Mandy is cool about this though too. "Hey, I'm Mandy, Spence's girlfriend." She holds Diggory in one hand and reaches the other out to Sam, who just stares at it in confusion. "I assume you're Sam?"

Freddie decides to rescue Mandy from the awkward situation. He takes her hand and shakes it firmly. "Hey, I'm Freddie."

Then a loud squawk sounds from the blue and yellow parrot. "Raawt! Freddie's a dork! Rawt!"

Sam smiles triumphantly. "And he sleeps with a nightlight," she informs Mandy.

I step in. "Wait! How did Diggy learn to say that?"

Freddie scowls. "By being around Sam for more than two minutes."

Sam's smile only grows wider. "Yeah, Dig's got about twenty different built-in Freddie disses now." She turns to Carly for support when she sees I am less than enthused. And Carly is smiling at the whole situation until she sees my angry expression.

"Sam you should know better than that!" But she still doesn't look too angry, just amused. And Sam can read Carly like a book. Therefore, she finds nothing wrong with her actions.

"I thought I told you not to teach him to say anything," I whine, stroking Diggory's back sadly. I was planning to teach him to count in Pig Latin, and a parrot can only remember so much.

"Correction. You told me not to teach him pirate terminology. Unless you consider calling Freddie an assortment of creative names to be pirate terminology, you have no case against me," she finishes, crossing her arms defiantly. Freddie does the same, but his frustration is pointed toward Sam, not me.

"Wow," Mandy says as she follows me to the kitchen. "You're place is pretty entertaining. I like Sam."

"You like her?" Thank God! Sam has been known to scare away girls I've brought home after they find out how much time she spends here. I'm beginning to think Mandy is my perfect girl. She helps me gather the ingredients for smoothies from the cupboards. As I am putting on my red apron, I notice that she seems to know her way around a kitchen. Also good. Wife skills, something I rightfully lack in. So does Sam. I feel bad for her future husband.

"Yeah, I like her. She seems..." Mandy searches for the right word. At the same time, Sam lifts her feet up on Freddie's lap, and kicks him when he tries to push them away. "...Well, I was going to say nice. But, in control works too."

"She is definitely that," I say as I drop a few leftover waffles into the blender.

"What are you doing?" Mandy asks.

"Making a smoothie."

"Waffles?"

"Uh, duh! You can't have a good smoothie without everyone's favorite breakfast food!" I inform her. Then I drop a few marshmallows in as well. And her arms were full of fruits and yogurt...Ha!

"Right, and would you like some licorice?"

"Mandy, you read my mind." I guess she was being sarcastic, because she looks a bit surprised as I reach past her for the candy jar. "And perhaps a few jelly beans."

Mandy's eyes are rather wide at this time. But she looks amused as I flaunt my new giraffe puppet oven mitts. "Why do you need those? Last time I checked, smoothies were cold."

"But they are just so FUN!"

Mandy laughs and nods in agreement. She has the cutest laugh ever. So I find myself doing exceptionally crazy things around her just to hear it. "And I really like you're sister too," she says, continuing our previous conversation. "She's really sweet." I look over at Carly, who is holding and stroking Diggory, and watching her friends on the couch closely. Sam still has her feet perched in her favorite spot on Freddie's shoulder next to his face. Freddie gave up sooner than normal today. Only eight disgruntled moans before giving in to Sam's kicking feet and settling into my couch. "And Freddie," Mandy laughs again. "Well, I mainly just feel bad for him. But he seems like a real gentleman."

I laugh too as I pour chocolate syrup into the blender. "Yeah, and that takes a lot of restraint for him I'm sure...living with Sam and all."

Mandy smiles as she helps me put out the fire that ignited on top of the blender. She didn't even scream or look surprised. She just grabbed a wet cloth and started beating the flames without a word. Yep, my perfect girl. "So, you said Sam and Freddie live with you?" Mandy asks, ringing out the singed rag in the sink after the fire died down.

I continue pouring some Crispy-O's into the blender as well. "No, they just kind of _come_ and _stay_ for long periods of time."

"Cereal?" she asks skeptically, gesturing toward the box in my hands.

"The secret ingredient." I put my finger to my lips. "Shhh..."

She sighs and her little lopsided half-smile thing spreads over her face, and I have to clutch the counter so I don't fall over at the sight of it. "Well, now that you know I like you're sister and her little friends, I expect to be invited over here more often."

"Anything," I say quickly. All she does is pat my shoulder and my heart is fluttering like a flipping butterfly or something else that flutters. Like a leaf, or my thoughts back in the law school days (we call those the dark times). My hand flies to my chest in an attempt to keep my swelling heart in place.

She shakes her head laughing. "Wow, you are really one for the dramatics." Then her attention is drawn to the scene developing in the living room.

Freddie is again attempting to remove Sam's feet after she shifts and her sneakers block his view of the TV. "Stop it, Dork! I'm trying to watch me some Girly Cow!"

"Raaaawt! The dork's a girly cow!" Diggory chimes in from Carly's lap.

Sam smiles with joyful excitement. At the same time Freddie frowns in horror. "I didn't even teach him that one," she says proudly, tossing Dig a chip for his efforts. Carly gives her a look and Sam goes back to 'watching her some Girly Cow'. Freddie just watches her with an incredulous expression. Sam doesn't turn away from the TV as she yells, "Stop staring at me Fredweird!"

Then Diggory adds, "Freddie's such a creep! Raawt, rawt!"

"That's it," Freddie says, lunging off the couch toward the bird. Sam kicks him back into place and restrains him with her feet as he desperately goes after the bird in Carly's lap on the chair. "I'm not going to hurt him! Just shut him up a bit," Freddie says, struggling against Sam's overbearing sneakers. Wow, their roles seem a bit inverted at this time. Freddie is spending way too much time with Sam if he wants to eat trans fat and has a desire to hurt small animals.

I grow a bit concerned and enter the living room, taking the frightened Diggory from Carly's lap. I let him rest on my shoulder as I continue my specialty smoothies in the kitchen. I've moved on to my next ingredient: candied corn.

"Wow, the parrot makes for a nice effect complemented by your giraffe oven mitts and your 'mama's little helper' apron," Mandy says. I nod in agreement as I start the blender, drowning out my usual couch inhabitants' current argument over where Sam's feet should go. "Are those two dating?" Mandy asks over the roar of the blending.

"What?" I yell back.

"I asked if those two-,"

"No, I heard you! I'm just really surprised...hence the interjection 'what'!"

She waits until I have turned off the blender before she continues in a hushed whisper. "Well, I'm just saying...I don't know, they seem to have a lot of chemistry." She smiles as I laugh out loud.

"I guess. But only when they are at each other's throat." Then I recall a certain couch memory. "And when they are conniving. And laughing. And talking. And around each other. But other than that..."

Mandy laughs. "Wow, you are blind. Those two totally have potential." I respect Mandy's opinion, but YEAH RIGHT! Mandy, Diggy, and I watch the kids in the living room for a minute as I pour the gray solution that is my smoothie into two cups. Sam settles her feet into Freddie's face again and lets out a low grunt, not turning away from the TV. Freddie doesn't turn away either as he picks up one of the scattered chips and leans over her to hold it out to her mouth. She opens up and he sets it inside, then leans back to his side of the couch without a word. Sam sighs contentedly as she munches her chip. Mandy turns to me with a sly smile. "See what I mean?"

"No," I say, handing her a cup. I don't care about woman's intuition. I am not about to let myself be submitted to strange thoughts about Sam and Freddie..._together_. No thank you. I'd rather hang out with an irritated hippopotamus. Or sleep in a dumpster with a homeless man. Or drive around in a crowded clown car...well, the last one sounds kind of fun, but you're getting my drift. The thought of the two together is just not something I'm going to ponder.

Mandy takes a daring sip of the smoothie. She licks her lips and nods for a second. "Disgusting," she concludes.

I take a sip as well. "Yeah...too much cereal. Hey Sam?" Sam gives a lazy wave to let me know she acknowledges me. I take the smoothies to her. "Here, drink them. The garbage disposal is broken." Sam takes both cups and begins to obediently down them.

"Licorice? Marshmallows? Crispy-O's? Chocolate syrup?" She swishes the smoothie around in her mouth a bit, a look of concentration taking over her lazy features. "And waffles?"

"Yeah, and jelly beans," Mandy answers, as amused as she is impressed.

"Nice." Sam takes another gulp of the gray goopy liquid.

"Wow, Sam. You never fail to disgust me," Freddie murmurs. And we all know what's coming.

Sam dumps one of the smoothies over Freddie's head. It seeps down his shocked form, landing on my couch. "Sam!" Carly and I yell together. But I think she is more worried for Freddie's sake. I only have thoughts of my couch and it forever smelling of waffley smoothie. Hmm...maybe this isn't so bad.

Mandy is really struggling to hold back her laughter as Freddie begins, "Sam-,"

Then he is abruptly cut of by some squawking from my shoulder. "Raaawtt! Shut up Fredqueer! Raawt!" Freddie uses every bit of restraint he has to stop himself from strangling him, as Sam smiles fondly at the bird. Yes, Diggory will fit in quite nicely with our living room scene.

* * *

**Okay...thanks. Sweet. Well, I am thinking that a plot changer of sorts is due at this time. Maybe. I don't know. I will try to get the next one out within the next day or two. Easter break! Yeah! Mmmkay... **

**Alrighty then...reviews. Thank you for reading.  
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	6. The defiling of my couch

**Hi.**

**Spencer's girlfriend is NOT freaky Mandy from the show, just to clear that up. Sorry, forgot about her when I wrote this.  
So, writing from Spencer's PoV is becoming increasingly difficult. By no means am I saying that I'm going to give it up. It's _fun_, just difficult. So I hope this chapter has still got that Spencer slant to it.  
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**And if you read 'iCan't Stand Her', this chapter should spark some sort of memory for you. If you did not, don't worry, it still makes sense and everything...I think so at least. Let me know what you think. **

**Age in this chapter...around the same as the last few. End of sophomore year, I'd say. Still sixteen. And Spencer, I think, is about eleven or so years older than them...you may do the math if you please. I'm two lazy to even allow my brain to begin functioning in a mathematical sort of way. **

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You guys agree that a taco would win in a fight against a grilled cheese sandwich, right? Carly keeps saying grilled cheese would kick a taco's but, even outside the boundaries of prison rules. Come on! A grilled cheese sandwich is just a soggy, cheesy mess. But Carly says that it's only fair to fry the sandwich until it's golden brown and not soggy before allowing it to participate in the fight. That is bologna. Bologna…hmm…I bet a bologna sandwich might put up a good fight against, say, a giant pickle. Okay, we'll see what Carly thinks about this match up. I'm saying pickle wins. What about you guys?

Right, well…sorry about that. I've been in the mood to rant since my 'discussion' with Carly over which foods would prevail over the others in a fight. So, how are you? Good? Great. Not so good? I'm sorry that person you're angry with is such a jerk, or that you stubbed your toe, or that you made a total fool out of yourself in front of a large crowd, or that you are feeling under the weather, or that you accidentally dropped your goldfish in the garbage disposal (rest in piece Phillipe), or that you have a crap ton of tests to cram for and you are spending your time reading this, or for any other possible scenario that could affect you in a remotely negative way. Wow, my longest sentence ever. Share in my silence for this proud moment**.................................**okay. Thank you. That was a good time just now.

So, I bet you are not caring at all what I have to say. That's fine. I have my own friends who love me and beg me to tell them my opinion on triumphant foods and such.

Mmmkay. Let's get down to business. So this story I'm about to tell you is not my favorite. Mainly because it's Sam's birthday. Sam's birthday is a very painful and downcast day to all. I mean, as if Sam isn't demanding enough. Then give her a 'birthday girl' party hat and you suddenly have to bend to her every whim without complaint.

And Freddie is blue! Like, I don't mean he's _feeling_ blue. The kid's skin is blue! I'm talking blue like blueberries, or the sky, or Blue Man Group or something else that is blue. He is blue. Oh the possibilities for pun with this situation. Hmmm...Why is his skin blue? Don't worry, I'll get to the bottom of this.

So we are sitting in my living room. Me on the coffee table, Sam and Fred on the couch, the lonely chairs on either side of us. My couch's inhabitants are glaring at each other from opposite ends of the couch. They are both tucked under the same blanket each with an ice pack resting over their face. You see, we just got back from Fred's basketball game, and while Freddie was going for a loose ball he ran head-on into Sam, who was asleep on the floor next to the half court line. It is her birthday after all. She can sleep wherever she feels pleasing. Oh yeah, Freddo plays basketball now. I know, right! I laughed too...but I guess he's taller and more coordinated. Pssth. Heh. Okay, you can laugh. It's still funny. Did you just get a mental picture of Freddie sitting on the bench playing with wires? Ha! Yeah, me too. But he made the team, I guess, and I'm happy for him. Gets him away from his mom, and more importantly, away from Sam.

I say this because Sam has been particularity angry with Freddie over the last few weeks, and Freddie has paid dearly for it. I asked Carly what was up with the two couch sitters the other day. She told me that she thought Freddie was jealous of this guy named Cooper who Sam went to the movies with. He was jealous? The kid's name was Cooper for crying out loud! That's such a lame name. Uh, sorry for any of you who have and or like the name Cooper. I mean lame as in...cool. Like a cool sort of lame. Yeah...anyhoo, according to Carly, Freddie was jealous. Yeah right! It's Sam! Freddie wouldn't care who she went out with. That would imply that-that...he _likes _her...ew. That's crazy and impossible. But all of the woman in my life seem to think differently about this particular subject (Carly, Mandy, the old lady who bags groceries at Value-Mart. Random? Yeah, I can't bring Sam and Freddie anywhere these days without people making false assumptions). But Carly insists Fred is jealous. So she thinks his jealousy is what triggered him to ask out some chick named Natalie. Why did her name have to be Natalie? Now all I hear is Freddie yelling at Sam to stop referring to her as 'NASTalie'. Heh, Nastalie. Funny. Sam has a knack for nicknames.

Okay, so since Freddo and Natalie started 'talking', and this could be a total coincidence! But since then, Sam has been quite a bit meaner to Freddie. She has been going a little overboard with the pranks. Not that it's not entertaining to see everything in Freddie's wardrobe get turned pink, or see a picture of his face photoshopped onto a swimsuit model's body circulating around the net, or to see him now. Blue skinned and frustrated.

I think I know the answer already, but, "Why is your skin blue?" I ask Freddie in a nonchalant tone that only this odd pair could bring upon me when asking a question of this level of absurdity. Yeah...that.

"Sam," Freddie answers, giving the subject of his answer an angry glare from the other end of the couch. Then he lets out a yelp as the subject of his answer kicks him under the covers.

Sam looks up at me, seemingly proud of her work. "You remember a few years back when we used those powdery blue capsule things to turn Gibby blue for that iCarly skit?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, there were still some leftover in the iCarly props. I put one in the dork's shower spout." Sam gives the blue boy lying opposite her a thoughtful look. "And Mr. Showers Daily was such an easy target, it was almost wrong. Almost."

I stifle my laugh, for angry blue Freddie's sake. Then a thought occurs to me. Hey! You laughed! Thoughts occur to me. I think things. I think a lot of things. Hmph. Cyber-crossing arms initiated. Anyway, a thought occurs (don't even start) to me. "Sam? Aren't those, like, expired or something?"

Sam smiles deviously. "Why do you think it's taking so long for Freddie to wash it off?"

"Genius," I say, avoiding Freddie's angry glare from behind his blue furrowed eyebrows.

"What's wrong, Fredwardo? Feeling a little blue?" Sam smirks. Ha! Feeling a little blue! Oh man...that is punny. You know, like funny with pun. Funny pun. Punny. Yeah? No? Never mind.

Freddie doesn't think that this is punny. "Shut up Sam!"

Sam is still eying her blue work fondly. "Hey, you can't tell the birthday girl to shut up! And what are you supposed to refer to me as on my birthday?" Freddie just huffs defiantly. "I'm warning you boy! Say it!" Freddie doesn't change his angry expression. "You asked for it," Sam croons, removing the ice pack from her face, and flinging it at Freddie's. When all he does is moan, she sets to kicking him violently a few times.

"No, no, no! You aren't starting that again!" I say, standing to appear as a bit more of a threat. "Come on! You two fight enough!" And I am ignored. I lean down so my mouth is level with Sam's ear, and shout what she is wanting to hear. "Hey, You're Majesty! Stop kicking Freddie!" The mention of her chosen name for the day brings her back to reality where no one is kicking Freddie.

She turns on me instead. "Where's my birthday cake?"

I gulp. "Sam...I al-already told y-you." I am trying and failing to keep the frightened shaking out of my voice. Sam has asked me about nine times today where her cake was. And I swear I made one! But I lost it. No! I did not lose it, it disappeared! But nobody believes me. I promise it's the truth! You believe me, right? I baked it and frosted it last night, and let it sit out on the counter so Diggy could admire it from his cage. And when I got up this morning, the cake was gone. Gone! And Sam was very upset with me. I promised her a double layered chocolate cake for her birthday. But you know what the most interesting part of Sam's anger for me at this time is? She had chocolate all over her mouth as she was asleep on my couch this morning. Yeah, I'm not blind. Nothing gets past me. I can put two and two together.

Freddie re-situates himself and his legs which were once beside Sam's are now on top of them. But it's not like he did this on purpose! It's not like he wants to be in his current position. They just tend to steer clear of the chairs, and I guess after the accident at the game, they both feel like lying down. It's not like they are enjoying this. They are still glaring at each other after all. Wow, you guys and your hasty false presumptions.

Anyhoo, where was I? Ah, yes. So nothing gets past me. I catch all the little details. And Sam's chocolate covered mouth was a sure sign that she knew exactly what had happened to her cake. She just didn't want to share it. And now she is blaming me to clear her own name from suspicion. Hmm...or she really doesn't remember eating the cake. Sam tends to eat in her sleep at times.

"I better have a cake before the end of the day," Sam threatens.

"Or else?"

Sam lets out an evil laugh. "Trust me Spence, you don't want to know. You might wet yourself...again."

"Hey! I haven't wet myself in four years!" Sam has provoking Freddie down to an art, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know which buttons to press on other people. The pants wetting thing, that's a soft spot for me. And it was only once! And it was cold out, and I drank an entire thirty-two once red slush from SnowBiz. Not my fault.

"You keep telling yourself that. Now make me a sammich!" Freddie seems to be enjoying his break from Sam's yelling as he watches her with an amused blue expression. I am less than enthused to take on his burden.

"Sorry, You're Majesty. Out of bread," I say, trying to keep my frustration to a minimal. Angering Sam on her birthday is the equivalent of a death wish. But I can't help myself. "Well, we are out of practically all foods. Congratulations. You consumed everything."

Sam's anger overtakes her brief pride. "Then go buy some more!" she yells. Then she looks up thoughtfully. "And...I want something else too, I just can't think of it."

I sigh. "Seriously Sam-,"

"It's on the tip of me tongue!"

I try again, "Sam-,"

"Oh! I got it. I would like a stuffed dinosaur. Thank you." Wow. She said thank you. Exciting.

"Sam! I already bought you eight pounds of beef jerky! What more do you want from me?"

"A dinosaur," she says quietly. She looks a bit taken aback that I would raise my voice at her. I usually hold it in and just take what the kiddos throw out at me. But with it being Sam's birthday, and her ordering me around all day and stealing the cake I made, the explosion has been long overdue.

Freddie looks rather taken aback too. And angry. "Hey! it's her birthday, Spence. You could show some class." Are you kidding me? The kid who is constantly yelling at Sam and telling her off is telling _me_ to show some class for her birthday? Seriously? Well, according to him, I guess only Freddie is allowed to piss Sam off on her birthday.

But Sam doesn't find Fred's standing up for her to be an acceptable act of gallantry. "Shut up, Fredqueer. I can take care of myself." Freddie glares at her again. I guess his previous amusement of watching Sam yell at me has melted away and been replaced with hostility. What else is new?

"Oh really," Freddie muses. "Then how come you had to call me to come get you from that party the other night?" Going by his smug expression, I bet Freddie thinks he won this one.

"Hey! It's my birthday! I will choose the subjects of our conversation! Last night's events are off limits."

"Wait," I say, making my way to the kitchen. "What happened at that party? Was Carly there? Where is Carly?"

"Whoa, simmer down Speedy. One at a time," Sam says.

I open Diggory's cage and drop a handful of bird feed inside. He squawks happily saying, "Rawt! Freddie's a nub!" Dig looks a bit disgruntled when I don't give him the usual praise he would receive from Sam at this time.

"Did Carly go to that party last night?" She better not have if it was too much for _Sam_, whom I would label as 'extreme party animal'.

"No, don't worry." Good.

"And where is Carly?" You know what? I don't think I hear the shower. Hmm...

"She's out with Zach," Sam answers.

"Out with Zach?" I repeat. "Is Zach a girl?"

"No," Freddie says. "Hence the name _Zach_."

"So...it's like a-a...it's a-,"

Sam grows impatient. "Yes a date. Spencer, she's sixteen."

"No she's not. She's eleven," I say quietly to myself as I stroke Diggy's back.

Then a random chorus of 'Funkytown' by Lipps Inc. sounds off in the living room, and Sam immediately stands up on the couch and starts dancing. I guess the past few years of 'Random Dancing' have her trained. But she's sixteen now. Her dancing is...er...not quite as random. It's a bit more grown up. Eh...Man! It's impossible to be the twenty-seven-year-old brother/guardian of your kid sister who has strange friends that dance in your living room and not feel like a perv at times! Goodness, I'm a guy! It's hard not to notice. Ew...okay, I'm done. She just realized that I, and mainly Freddie, was staring at her and her movements change to her normal haphazard flinging of limbs in ways unimaginable to we normal humans beings. There's the Sam dancing we all know and love.

"Answer your phone," Freddie is able to say, after getting over the initial shock of Sam's random dancing. No pun intended that time.

"Sam here. Go," she says, stopping the chorus of the 80's hit song. I hear the faint sound of Carly's excited voice on the other line. "Yeah...Uh huh...Sure...Really? Oh my gosh, what did you say? Heh. Yeah. He would do that!" Eh, girl talk. Weird stuff. Sam glances at Freddie then continues pacing. "No, he's fine now. He regained conscientiousness awhile ago. That'll teach him to run into Sam Puckett!" Freddie heaves a disgruntled sigh. "Yeah...no he's seriously fine. Other than being a little girl, and just feeling a bit blue...no, you're wrong. It's still funny. It will always be funny." I must say that I agree with her on her opinion of this particular pun. "Okay, I will let Spence know...thanks. Happy birthday to you too...I know, I know. I just never know how to answer when people wish me happiness and such...But you know it's difficult for me to say thank you! Heh. Alright...Yeah, see you soon. Bye." She turns to me. "Carly is wondering if you could go pick her up at the movie theater. Zach's car broke down."

"Of course it did. Stupid Zach."

"You don't even know him," Freddie laughs. "He's a pretty good guy."

"What happened to you and Carly. I felt safer when it was _you_ who was in love with her." Freddie looks a bit angry under his blue mask. "No offense."

Freddie just crosses his arms as Sam muses, "Spencer, don't you remember? August fifteenth...Freddie De-pronounces His Love Day. The day Freddo here-," she ruffles his hair violently, "-decided he didn't have feelings for Carly anymore. We celebrate it like a holiday, with the party hats and everything. Carly has it marked on her calender."

"Ah, of course. How could I forget? You stole the cake I made that day too," I say, but only because I'm a safe distance away from the aggressive blonde while I'm in the kitchen. Freddie looks a bit frustrated that we would make a cake due to his canceling of feelings toward Carly. But with the creepy stalking her for years and everything, he brought it upon himself.

"I did not steal the cake today! You lost it!" Sam yells. She looks pissed. I will drop it for now. My face likes being attached to my scalp.

I put Diggory back in his cage and make my way to the door. "I'm getting Carls. I'll be right back. Don't kill each other, don't feed Dig, don't answer the door for hobos, you know the drill."

"Yeah, yeah. We got it," Sam says, throwing Freddie's legs off the couch and plopping down in their spot. "Shut up Benson," she yells as he grunts his disagreement. "It's my birthday!"

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So it's a few a hours later. The kiddos just got done with iCarly. Carls is, of course, in the shower. The other two are sitting on the couch, glaring each other down. The tension in the room right now is so heavy it makes me want to melt and crawl into a dark hole. I really need to get myself one of those sometime. I guess Sam was late for iCarly, and Freddie yelled at her, or at least that's what it had sounded like from down here. Anyways, they got into it while live on the air, and Carly freaked and started spraying them with he spray bottle. Then Sam flipped out and threw it against the wall. Good. It's broken. The death of the annoying spray bottle has been highly anticipated for some time now. Anyways, Sam and Freddo are now sitting on my couch, their piercing stares just daring the other to make a move. I guess the tension they built during the web cast has not subsided due to their floor level descent.

Finally Sam breaks the heavy silence. "Make me a Sammich!"

Freddie glares back at the angry pirate girl. "NO! Make your own damn sandwich!"

Sam crosses her arms. "It's my birthday! You have to do whatever I tell you!"

"Bull shit. You are so full of yourself!" Freddo crosses his arms as well. Oh my goodness. He just used a naughty word. Freddie! Wow, this is intense.

"Oh, stop being such a queer. And I'm sure Mrs. B would not approve of you're fowl language, young man." Sam smirks, and I know better than to wait around for Freddo's reaction. I hastily skip off to my room and shut the door behind me. This for the most part blocks off their frantic yelling back and forth. I'm not even going to try to stop it today. Birthday pirate Sam and angry blue Freddie. Yeah, there will be blood for sure.

I set to work on the new sculpture I've been working on. It's called 'Manikins Gone Wild'. I found all of these old manikin parts in the dumpster outside the mall. No it's not creepy! It's art. So I'm gluing a man's white head to a torso that looks like it may match. Then I hear Freddo's frustrated "AHH!" after Sam says something particularly provoking. Hmm...maybe I should go out there...Naw, they're fine. They are still yelling. That's a good sign.

So I am sticking a lady manikins leg into her hip socket. "Pardon me, Ma'am." Then I hear Freddie's frightened voice again.

"That's not true! You're insane!" Uh oh. Sam is being insane. Not good. Oh well, not my problem. I just want to figure out how to attach this hand to its wrist. The nobs are broken off and there are a few chips in it. I set to gluing again, and accidentally break off one of the lady manikin's fingers. No! I glue it back on quickly. Too quickly. I just glued my hands together. Ah man! I knew it was going to happen sometime though, as much as I use superglue. Darn it...

So I am attempting to pry my hands apart when I suddenly realize that there is no noise coming from the living room. Wait, what? I listen carefully. Nothing, no yelling, no screaming, no beating, nothing. Hmm...okay, now I'm scared.

Sam killed Freddie!

I open my door knob with my chin (after trying with my glued hands for a minute or so), then prepare myself for the frightening scene I may be walking in upon. I take a deep breath, pushing thoughts of Freddie's mangled body out of my mind, and stride into the living room.

Okay, Freddie's not dead. He's the first thing I see when I walk in on the couch scene. In fact, he's the only thing I see. So I assume Sam is under him. Dear God, they are still fighting. I shift my weight to my left and tilt my head to get a better view of the fight. Hmm...it seems Sam is everything but struggling beneath Freddie. In fact, she is doing quite the opposite...wait! Holy cabooses! No way! No flipping way! Are they...are they...?

Oh my gosh, they are. And it's not just some little peck you give your grandma either. This is like full blown, on my couch, all over each other, making out. Dear God! What got into them! Ew...okay...this is disgusting. I cannot watch this. Seriously, this is a bit strange. Sam and Freddie. Rock and Pink Mystery. The pirate and ol' blue...on my couch...Okay, that image was just forever burned into my head. This needs to stop. But I'm frozen on the spot. I am in a rather deep state of shock at this point. I can't will myself to move. Man, I feel creepier than usual. So, I do the only logical thing that comes to mind, and shut my eyes tight. A dark hole would really come in handy now as well. Alright, closing my eyes is working for a few seconds. Then I feel something tickling my bare foot. I open my eyes to see something looking rather like a dead rodent next to my left foot. Going against my better judgment and my queasy stomach, I glance up at the usual inhabitants of my couch and see that Sam decided to take off her pirate beard for Freddo. Wow, how courteous of her. I kick the beard to the side and take a timid step forward.

Okay, seriously. This has to stop. Wait, what is going to happen when it does stop? Uh oh. If my suspicions are correct, and their current positions are merely a result of high tension and teenage hormones, then the aftermath of this is not going to be pretty. Maybe Sam will kill Fred this time. But she is not looking like she has a massacre on her mind at this time, still contently wrapped in Freddie's arms, oblivious to anything else. Them and their stupid zone.

Freddie tries to kiss Sam's forehead, being all sweet and Freddie-ish. Sam forcefully pulls his blue face back to her lips, being all aggressive and Sam-ish. Right, well that would be Sam-one, Freddo-none. Oh! Wait! Did I just say that! Ahh! Sorry about that. Subconscious habit...my bad. Okay, it is really time to stop this.

I open my mouth to yell at them, but all I can muster is a weak, "Uh, should...I be concerned..er..."

Luckily they are a bit timid in this new zone, so it's not impossible to penetrate. Thank God. They untangle themselves hastily and stand up on the couch, both a bit pink in the face. And Freddie has got this idiotic ear to ear grin on his face. Heh. Sam glances at him, then back at me, then turns angrily on Freddie. She slaps his face saying, "Freddie! How dare you touch me!" Yeah right! Like I'm going to fall for that. Sam didn't look like she was minding it a second ago. She realizes that I'm not convinced and decides it might be a good time to push Freddie over the back of the couch. Freddie is too dazed to fight back. His head makes a loud thud as it collides with the floor. He let's out a weak groan. "Shut up, Dork."

"I-I just came out here when I heard you guys stop yelling. I was worried." I almost smile. "Sorry for interrupting, but could you relocate yourselves far, far away from my couch?"

"No need for relocation. Freddie was just being a creeper, but it's okay now." Sam glances down at Fred, smiles, then bounces toward the door slamming it shut behind her.

I saunter to the other side of the couch and look down at Fred. He doesn't even look angry...just happy. Really, really happy. I pull him to his feet and brush him off a bit. Some sort conversing is probably due at this time. "So...uh." Man, I'm really struggling here. "I won't ask."

"Good idea," he says. "Because I wouldn't be able to explain it."

"And I really don't want to know," I add as he plops back down on my couch with this far off look in his eyes. Ew.

"Raaawt! Rawt! Freddie likes boy! Rawt!" Diggory is not the most observant bird in the world.

I expect Freddo to get all defensive and beg me to let him strangle to bird, but he only laughs. "Wow, it's like she never left."

I laugh too, sort of. There is currently an empty side of the couch...hmm...it's been awhile. I sit down slowly, half expecting Sam to reappear and get to the cushion before me. But she doesn't, and I make sweet contact with the couch. I look over at Fred who nods. I settle further into the couch. Ahh...this is perfect. Then Freddie randomly sighs, which causes me to immediately jump away from my couch. Oh no...I'm never going to be able to sit on it again. It's been so defiled....

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**Haha, okay. If some of you who read my other stuff remember this, I was just DYING to write a Spencer PoV on the pirate Sam/blue Freddie couch kiss. Heh. So if you are curious as to what may have lead up to this kiss, then go to iCan't Stand Her and read the last part of chapter ten _birthday surprises. _Or don't if you don't care. That is also fine. **

**Sorry if some of the things in this chapter seemed kinda random, like blue Fred, and missing cake, and Nastalie/Cooper. Those are from my other story, and as this is a scene originally from my other story, they kind of needed to be mentioned, I guess. Don't worry, I think next chapter will take off after iCan't Stand Her ended. So no more random stuff (well, Spencer PoV...yeah, sorry there will be random stuff).  
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**Right, well next one will be out soon. Okay, thank you. Reviews please. Peace!**


	7. I think it's my couch

**Hey.**

**Ages: Late sixteen-early seventeen. In between Soph and Junior year. A few weeks or a month or two after the last chapter ended. **

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Mmkay. We are getting right to the point today. The less painful this is for me, the better.

Ugh…yeah. So I guess you kind of want to hear about how Sam and Freddie are doing at this point in my collection of random memories. Well, see for yourself, I guess. Here's the next story.

You guys owe me.

I am currently hiding from Sam, and her bo staff, and her pissed off expression. I crawl further into the cupboard I am now calling home. It's quite like a dark hole. This is nice. But Sam can see my feet sticking out from under the sink. She grabs one of my sneakers and drags me into the middle of the kitchen. Then she picks up this long stick, her bo staff, and swings it nonchalantly at her side while glaring me down. I slowly curl into fetal position.

"Why did you buy her a bo staff for her birthday?" I ask the kid on the couch.

"Sorry. I just had a feeling she'd like it," Freddie shrugs as he turns back to the TV. "And I see it's coming in useful."

Sam glances back at Freddie with a very _very _brief sort of fond look. Very rare too. Hmm…then she turns back to me, angry, and gripping the bo staff tighter. Yeah, she does like the bo staff. Sam and weapons…they just, you know, go hand in hand. And of course Freddie would know this. But I'm surprised he didn't buy her a frying pan. Actually, as Sam is twirling the bo staff over head with random expertise, my surprise subsides. She has some strange knack for the martial art of bojitsu, which is bo staff wielding. Weird...but I'm totally jealous.

So I slink away from her, still on the floor. She stalks after me. If you can't tell already she is particularly pissed off at me today.

"Why did you tell Carly about me and Freddork?" she screams menacingly.

"Uh," I roll a bit more. "Because...there was an awkward silence that I felt compelled to fill when we were eating dinner the other night."

I hear Freddie laugh over on the couch. I'm glad someone is appreciating my attempt at light halfheartedness, because Sam isn't. She brings the bo staff down hard against the floor inches away from my face. I yelp and scramble to my feet, then pull myself up onto the counter. I stand up quickly and back away. She strides after me, still twirling the bo staff. Okay, I am officially scared of the small blonde girl. I back up further and accidentally tip over the blender with my left foot, spilling its thick green contents all over the counter. Diggy squawks loudly at all the excitement.

"Raaaawt! Rawt! Freddie wets the bed! Rawt!" Out of habit, Sam grabs a cracker off the counter and tosses it into Dig's cage.

This split second cracker/insult interlude gives me just enough time to pull myself up onto the rafters. I bring my legs up to, clinging on for dear life, as Sam glares at me from below.

"You'll have to come down sometime," she hisses.

I gulp. "Sam, let's play a game. It's a really fun one! It's called 'the rational game'." I let out a nervous laugh. "Where the players can only do things that are rational."

Sam smirks deviously. "You're up then Spence. First rational act, coming down from the ceiling." I grip the cold metal bars a bit tighter. She grips her bo staff a bit tighter.

Freddie finally realizes the situation has turned from 'amusing' to 'serious'. He sighs as he gets up from the couch and saunters into the kitchen. "Sam is not very good at the rational game, Spence. Trust me, I'd know." Sam smirks at Freddie who smiles in return. Gah. Save it for the couch. Wait, just save it period. .

Freddie walks over to Sam and places his hands on the bo staff, forcing it down. Sam glares affronted at him for a moment before stepping on his foot and jabbing the end of the tapered staff into his gut. Freddie sputters as he reals back. I guess the 'situation' I found them in on the couch a few weeks ago hasn't really changed much between them. Sam is seemingly still in charge. "Sam, come on. That's enough," he wheezes, still clutching his stomach. Sam ignores him and looks back up to me, then to a chair, then back at me. She smiles then grabs the chair and pushes it on the floor directly under me. More gulping on my part.

Freddie has disappeared into the living room again as Sam teasingly prods me with her bo staff. I say teasingly because I'm sure the next time the staff makes contact with me, it will be a lot harder. I am a little frightened. Okay, I'm shaking out of my skin. I'm going to die! She's just a teenage girl, but I'm scared out of my mind right now. Okay I regret telling Carly about the 'situation' I walked in on the other day. I cringe as Sam raises the bo staff again, more menacingly this time.

Then Freddie reappears on the scene calling, "Hey Sam!" He whistles then calls again, "Look at what I've got." Sam begrudgingly glances to her right and sees Freddie, but more importantly the only thing she has a bigger sweet-tooth for than revenge. Freddie shakes the Fat Cakes and waggles his eyebrows a bit. Sam then falls into some sort of a trance and follows after him in a dazed sort of way. Freddie backs into the living room, moving the remote and plopping down on the couch, still holding the Fat Cakes out in front of him toward Sam. She drops to the couch as well, and watches Freddie expectantly. Ah, of course. The classic Fat Cake lure. Why didn't I think of that?

I take this time to come down from the rafters. How did I completely miss the chair? I get up from the very hard kitchen floor and unlatch Diggory's cage. He hops up onto my shoulder and we timidly make our way into the living room. Freddo still has Sam pretty enticed as he slowly unwraps the Fat Cake. Ah, once again, I'm saved by trans fatty goodness. Oh yeah, it's saved me before. But it's a very long and involved story that I'm not in the mood to tell after being forced up to the ceiling by a teenage girl. Freddie takes his time as he extracts the fluffy pink cakes from the wrapper. Sam watches with wide eyes.

Diggy and I decide to go back to what we were doing before Sam so rudely interrupted us with her not-so-empty-threats. "Say _afflesway_," I order. Oh, afflesway is 'waffles' in Pig Latin. Wouldn't it be the shizz to have a Pig Latin speaking parrot? But the blue bird only stares lackadaisically back at me. Is lackadaisically a word? Hmm...well he's inattentive at this time to be more clear.

Freddie takes a bite of the Fat Cake and heaves a satisfied sigh. Sam falls out of her little Fat Cake trance and slugs Fred on the shoulder. "Hey! Give me some!" Freddie smiles deviously and takes another daring bite. Who does he think he is, Sam? She is not going to stand for this much longer.

"Come on, Diggy. AFFLESWAY!" I shake the bird lightly "Say it!" But he doesn't. He doesn't even try. At this point, Dig only listens to one person when learning new phrases. "Say it Dig," I whine. He only looks expectantly over at Sam, who is now attempting to pry the Fat Cakes out of Freddo's hands. Fred gets a bit stubborn with trans fatty foods. Partly because he can't eat them around his mother, but mostly because Sam is wearing off on him. "Sam?" She ignores me. "SAM!"

"What?" she asks, annoyed as she gives Freddie another punch on the shoulder.

"Tell Dig to say 'afflesway'."

Sam sighs. "You're still on that Pig Latin kick I take it. Diggy...afflesway."

Diggory's head shoots up as he spreads his wings excitedly. "Rawt! Freddie is an afflesway!"

Sam smirks. Freddie frowns. "Sorry," she turns to me. "I guess he's kind of programmed."

Freddie takes advantage of Sam's distraction and shoves the remainder of the Fat Cake in his mouth. Luckily two come in each package or, with the look Sam just gave Fred, we may have experienced the end of the world just then. She smacks the back of his head as he reaches for the other one. But he grabs it anyway and gives her this tantalizing look. Sam lunges desperately after the cake. Freddie holds it just out of her reach saying, "Ah, ah, ahh Sam. How do you ask nicely?" He almost brings the Fat Cakes to his mouth, furthering the emotional hold he has on her now. Hmm...maybe Sam isn't _completely _in charge anymore. She leans for the cake again, smacking the underside of Freddie's jaw on the way. Just mostly in charge.

"Eddiefray, ouyay etterbay ivegay Amsay ethay Atfay Akecay, unlessway ethay oughtthay ofway eathday illsthray ouyay," I warn.

"What did you say?" Freddie asks, letting down his guard and lowering the Fat Cake slightly. Sam looks over at me, her expression as bemused as Fred's.

"Freddie, you better give Sam that Fat Cake, unless the thought of death thrills you," I repeat to the uncultured little children.

Freddie pulls away as Sam makes another grab for the cake in his hand. He smirks at Sam, who glares back dangerously. Freddo must be feeling exceptionally courageous tonight. I mean, everyone knows not to smirk around Sam. That's her thing. Sam's glare turns to a threatening death stare as she furrows her brows and tucks her bottom lip in menacingly. Freddie caves and holds the fluffy cake up to Sam's mouth. Yay! He wins the rational game. He allows Sam to take one bite, then pulls it back shiftily, only to find himself holding it out to her again the moment she continues her well-practiced death stare. She takes another bite, then another, and another until she has almost eaten through to Freddo's hand. Ten bucks says she eats that too.

And she looks like she's about to bite down on his hand, when Freddie pulls it back quickly, replacing it by dipping his face to meet Sam's. Her open mouth, ready to bite Freddie's hand, gasps into the unexpected kiss. Then she goes all hormonal teen on us and throws her arms around Freddo's neck, pulling him down into her. Okay, remind me that I owe you ten bucks. Freddie cooperates happily with Sam's pulling and kisses her jaw line tenderly. Gah, yeesh.

"Hey Diggy, say 'ew! Disgusting!'" I am not Sam. Diggory does not say 'ew' or 'disgusting'. "Or say 'settle down kiddos'. Try that one." I am ignored by both my bird and my couch's usual inhabitants. I try coughing loudly.

No change except that Freddie has moved on to trailing his lips down Sam's neck.

New tactic. Secret weapon time. "Hey guys! Carly is coming!" As they immediately break a part, there's a small 'popping' noise. Diggy and his birdish tendencies mimics the 'pop' a few times. "Shut up Dig!" I don't need to hear that again. Ever.

At the mention of Carly, Sam is as far away from Freddie as she can be while still on the couch. She can't stand hearing Carly's _I told you so_'s. Carly and her all knowing-ness. It can get a bit annoying at times. When they slowly realize that I'm bluffing and Carly has not yet finished her shower, they are back at it in an instant. What? Do I not count as the general public or something? Well, I guess I should know by now that when the two are on the couch together, I may as well be in China. Or Scandinavia. I hear it's quite nice this time of year.

Well then. I must not exist anymore. Or I suppose their zone still applies...hmm...

Sam tears at a few fistfuls of the hair on the back of Fred's head, and Freddo lets out a pained yet oddly content moan through his nose. His mouth is a bit busy at the moment.

My poor, _poor _couch.

Carly! Thank God. She is actually coming down the stairs right now. If she didn't I think I may have had to dramatically run out of the room, or bury my head in a stuffy dark place, or gouge out my eyes.

"Hey guys-," she takes in the sight of the couch 'situation' with wide eyes. "Uh, Sam? Freddie? FREDDIE!" Freddie unravels his arms from around Sam's waist and scoots to the other side of the couch. Sam reluctantly follows suit. Carly takes a deep breath, wrapping a towel around her sopping hair. "You guys done now?"

"Yeah," Sam says with a touch of guilt.

"You sure?"

"Yes!" Sam assures aggressively. Freddie nods his agreement, looking rather blue. And it's not supposed to be punny this time. His blue skin has faded to such a light tint that you wouldn't think anything of it unless you knew any better. I mean he looks sad and disgruntled.

Carly smiles and I can tell she wants to say something along the lines of 'I told you so' to Sam _so _bad right now. But at this point Sam has already got the death stare stamped across her face. Carly sighs and takes a seat at the breakfast bar, logging on to the computer.

"What's up, Carls?" I ask, avoiding Sam and Freddie's eyes. And they think this is awkward for them. Ha!

"Just IMing Zach," she shrugs.

I huff angrily. "Don't tell him you just got out of the shower," I warn her in a brotherly fashion. Dig squawks his agreement.

Carly turns back to me. "And why is that?"

"Just trust me. I was a teenage boy once."

Carly shakes her head and goes back to 'IMing' or whatever. Boredom sets in and I glance at Sam and Freddie, hoping for some amusement. They are doing their best to ignore each other. Heh. Freddie is not doing a very good job at this. He's watching Sam with a sort of apologetic expression and a hint of longing. Sam finally caves and glances at him, smirks, then decides for once she might help him out. He is able to settle down a teed bit as she stands up from the couch. She stretches and walks over to Carly.

"You're hair smells nice."

"Thank you, Sam," Carly says, simultaneously typing something completely different to Zach. Stupid Zach.

Sam glances back at Fred again, who is still watching her, but with a bit more restraint. "Why do you always take showers? Live on the edge one of these days. Take a bath!"

"Rawt! Take a bath Freddie!" Sam absentmindedly strokes the birds head. Freddie looks a bit frustrated that he can't bring himself to stop watching Sam now.

"Ew. A bath?" Carly asks.

Sam looks surprised. "Hey, I thought that was pretty hygienic of me to come up with. Aren't you proud?"

Carly nods. "Of course, but _a bath_. Swim around in my own filth? No thank you," she concludes, going back to cyber-Zach.

"If you gotta be clean, that's the way to do it," Sam says. Freddie shakes his head lightly and Sam smirks. "Isn't that right, Dorkface?"

"Whatever you say Sam." _As long as you make out with me some more,_ I finish for him in my mind.

Sam smirks happily at Freddie, then turns back to Carly. "Well, you still stink. You should go take another shower."

Carly doesn't take the bait. She knows Sam too well. "I smell distinctly of watermelons and juniper breeze. No stink. You're just trying to get me out of here so you and Freddie are alone." Alone? Do I just not count anymore?

"Nuh uh," Sam says quietly. She and Freddie exchange disappointed glances.

It's silent for a moment, then Carly let's out a shrill scream. Dig, Freddie, and I all jump slightly. Sam just shakes her head knowingly. Carly regains her composure and skips over to me. "Spencer?" Oh no...sugar coated voice. Yikes.

"Yeah?" I ask timidly.

"Well, Zach just asked me if I could go-,"

"No."

"Yes!" Sam says eagerly. Freddie perks up a bit at the possible outcome of the situation.

"Please," Carly whines. Oh no...puppy dog pout. Not the the puppy dog pout. Aw, it's so cute and pathetic at the same time. Man!

"Fine," I sigh. I don't know who is more celebratory at this point, Carly, Sam and Freddie, or Diggy who just found a cracker buried beneath the cushion of my chair.

"Thank you!" she says, enveloping me in a tight squeeze. Wow, I am a pushover. Carly rushes up the stairs to go get all beautified for some event involving Zach. Again, I find myself alone with Sam and Freddie.

Uh oh.

Sam instantly tackles Freddie back into the couch, and they pick up right where they left off, except Sam is on top this time. Ew. I just noticed that.

I guess I am just going to have to learn to accept things, as strange and random as they may be. I walk into the kitchen to get away from the scene forming in my living room and to possibly make a sandwich. Diggy follows hurriedly after me, sensing the drastic atmospheric change in the living room. He looks a bit confused. I guess he's used to Sam and Freddie's interactions being rather different. "You and me both buddy." Then he makes a series of the little 'pop' noises he just learned. How does he repeat those and not my Pig Latin? Well, I guess I can see where the bird thinks that sound came from Sam. It sort of did, in a roundabout way. Dig 'pop's again. Wow, that is going to get annoying...especially if it brings up certain couch memories every time he does it. Urgh...

So, to distract you and myself and Diggy away from the unstoppable obscenity taking place on my couch, I will tell you the story of the first time trans fatty food saved my life that I mentioned earlier. Okay, so this one time at band camp...What? No, seriously, it was at band camp. I played the tuba in grade school. Anyways, we were at band camp and-

"Guys seriously!" Carly yells as she makes her way across the living room to the door. Sam surfaces and then shrugs as Carly disappears into the hall, then goes back to her and Freddie's new favorite pastime. I miss the good old days when they used to fight. Freddie places a soft kiss on Sam's temple, then on her cheek as his thumbs trace small circles over her ears. She then smacks the back of his head and forces his lips into her's again. Okay, maybe their fighting and this new pastime go hand in hand.

Ellway, isthay isway eallyray awkwardway. I'mway oinggay otay ogay eadray ymay 'Earninglay otay Istlewhay' anualmay inway ymayedroombay, erewhay Amsay andway Eddiefray on'tday existway andway eythay aren'tway efilingday ymay ouchcay. And you seriously owe me for this particular recollection. Not so fun for me to recollect. Eesay ouyay aterlay.

* * *

**Okay, if you can't figure out what that last line is, it's** 'Well, this is really awkward. I'm going to go read my 'Learning to Whistle' manual in my bedroom, where Sam and Freddie don't exist and they aren't defiling my couch.' **and** 'See you later.' **I don't really know, I just figure Spencer would be fluent in Pig Latin, as am I. **

**Alright, thanks for reading guys. Please review. Seriously.  
**

**Mmmkay, thanks. Heh. Sorry you never found out what happed with trans fat at band camp that saved Spence's life. I had a good story and everything, I was just too lazy to actually type it. Next one will hopefully be up soon, I think. **

**Happy Easter. Tell the family Angie says hi. And your cat so he doesn't feel neglected.  
**


	8. Man talk on my couch

**I'm not gonna lie, this chapter is mainly Spencer/Freddie fluff. Heh. I couldn't help myself.  
****Ages: Seventeen. Beginning of Junior year or the summer right before. You can pick which ev.  


* * *

**…Yeah...hey. The 'hellos' are growing slightly awkward. If you guys would say 'hi' back, that would help. Like right now, just say 'hi'...Okay, thanks. That was alright. I feel like we're bonding.

Well, since you already owe me for sharing that not-so-fond memory last time we talked, and I owe you ten bucks because Sam didn't eat Freddie's hand (you know…Fat Cakes, making out…ring any bells?). Anyhoo, I was thinking we could come to a compromise. Let's just call it even, alright? Cool. You're so cute and compliant. I just wanna pinch your cheek right now.

Apologies for any weird feelings caused by the previous statement. Okay, so this time we are sitting on my couch. Just the two of us. Just us. No one else. This is so weird. Oh, us being Freddie and me, that is.

I guess Sam and Carly went shopping. Well, Carly went shopping and forced Sam to tag along saying that it was her duty being the best friend and all. And that leaves us two guys alone.

Well, not alone. We've still got the couch.

"Rawt!" 'Pop, pop, pop'. "Freddie's a dork! Raaawt!" And Diggy of course is here. And his popping...Next time Freddie asks, I'm going to let him strangle the bird. Diggory glides from his perch on the TV and lands softly on my head, pecking affectionately at my ear. Okay, maybe I won't let Freddie strangle him. Just kick him around a bit.

And then there's the giant sculpture of Godzilla in the corner of the room, eating a plate of lasagna. It took me forever to make! He's huge too! Bigger than that ginormous coffee cup I made that one time. He is rather a sight to see. And he's also very versatile, blending Italian and Japanese culture together in a form of art. Okay, you got me. It's _me_, the artist, who is in fact versatile. Anyways, I named him 'Anmay-Eatingway Izardlay Ithway Italianway Astetay', but you can call him Godzilla. The people at the art studio downtown appreciated my being fluent in Pig Latin. We sat around drinking my specialty smoothies and singing every Fergie Ferg song ever in Pig Latin when they came over to take a few pictures of the statue to post in their studio. I love the studio people. Artists...we just mesh. But Godzilla was too big to get out of here (his head is stuck in the rafters). That's why they had to settle for a few pictures instead. Anyways, humongous lasagna-eating Godzilla is now a constant part of the living room scene until I figure out a way to remove him with out causing permanent damage to my ceiling. Carly is a bit annoyed with the giant lizard in the corner behind our TV. Don't tell her, but I secretly want to keep him here. I mean, it's awesome! It's like we always have this frightening pop-culture icon living in your house. It is totally serendipitous, to be exact.

Speaking of my couch...Not speaking of my couch? Oh, right. Well that doesn't matter. What does matter is that I am sitting on my couch! Let me repeat that. I, Spencer Vincent Shay, AM SITTING ON MY OWN COUCH. Now let's take this in. Wow. Yes. Awesome. Thuper Awethome. Fun. This is fun. This is a good time. My butt is rather enjoying itself.

"Spence? You okay?" Freddie pokes me. "You look a little out of it."

"Sorry," I say weakly. "My couch..." I can't even complete my thought. There are no words to express my feelings at this current time.

Freddie just gives me a confused and concerned half nod. Nobody outside of you, and Diggy, and this lonely hobo named Lucky whom I find myself in deep conversations with quite often knows about my struggle with my couch. Or _for_ my couch would be more accurate. Ah, my couch. Okay yes, it is incredibly weird sitting here knowing that this is where Sam and Freddie shared so many memories and fights and 'situations', but I am honestly getting used to the idea of them...you know..._together_. I mean, it's still a totally serendipitous, (that's twice already today. Time to tone it down) relationshipish thing. I don't know if they are 'official' yet though. You think they would be! It's been like two months since I first walked in on them in a 'situation'. Remember? Back in the good ol' days when Freddie was blue and Sam was a pirate. Well, she is still a pirate sometimes. She is wearing the pirate costume as we speak to the mall. Her little form of rebellion for being dragged along with Carly. And, going back to my couch, I am also getting used to the gray stain from that smoothie Sam dumped on Freddie's head that one time. My left butt cheek is touching the stain right now. Don't even pretend you didn't like that image.

"Spence?" Freddie tries again.

"Mmmhm?" I ask as I run my fingers along the wood armrest I've missed so dearly.

"Uh, well...You see, I-I...I-,"

"Spit it out kid!"

"I need your help," he finally says.

"My help?" I ask, my right eyebrows cocks in that quizzical way it does sometimes. I swear, Brow and Brow Two. They have minds of their own. But Brow Two is more of the out going one. He raises on many occasions. Brow is a bit more timid. Also, I have almost no control over the left side of my face where Brow rests, so it's impossible to move on command. Hey, don't be hatin' on me and my personificational habits.

"Yeah." Freddie looks a bit uncomfortable. "Uh, girl problems."

Ah. My specialty.

"Well, young Fredward, you have come to the right place." I sound like Sensei. Heh, a Man Sensei.

Freddie sighs, relieved. "Good. I was hoping you'd help me out. I really didn't want to go to my mom-,"

"Dear God."

"-and talking to Carly would just turn into a big game of 'So, what'd'ya like best about Sam?' and 'Tell me all of your feelings' and all that chizz." Freddie shudders at the thought. So do I. You know what, I seriously used to worry about this kid. I mean he rarely hangs out with guys. I wouldn't be surprised if he _does_ play those games with Carly. In fact, I bet Freddie is a bigger help to Carly's apparent needs for a girly friend than Sam. Poor Freddie. Surrounded by girls, all the time. So I'm glad he came to me for this particular problem, whatever that may be. Time to teach the kid to be a man once and for all. Excuse me. What was that? Did you just laugh? Yes, I do know how to be a man, thank you very much!

"Alright Freddo, shoot."

"Well, it's about Sam."

I figured this already, but I can't help myself, "I thought you said _girl_ problems." Heh. I'm so clever. I almost hold out my hand for a high five. I mean, that was a good one, right?

But Freddie doesn't find it too funny. "Hey! She's...uh, a bit rough around the edges, but she's still a girl!"

"Rawt!" Diggy is tired of being ignored. He tugs on my ear a bit, then offers, "Freddie likes boys!"

"The bird says it all Fredwardo," I say, the facetious hint in my charming voice not getting the reaction out of Freddie I thought it would.

"Leave Sam alone." He's being all defensive and protective and whatever, but at the same time I can tell he's silently cursing Sam as he eyes the blue bird angrily. I remember the good ol' days, not that long ago, when the cursing of Sam done by Freddie was aloud. Not while she was around of course! But Freddie has been known to complain once or twice (every time she leaves the room) about Sam. And why can't I poke some fun at her now? Maybe I have to sign up for the 'Zone Club' or something.

Diggy settles into the top of my head, making a few satisfied 'pop's.

You know what? I take back any thoughts of possibly joining the 'Zone Club'.

Anyways, Vice Prez of the Zone Club (I assume Sam's the head honcho) continues, "Okay, well, could you just help me out? There's a problem."

"Is she pregnant?" Hey, why not, right?

"No!" Freddie says firmly. "We haven't even...Urgh, no. She is not pregnant."

Remember that one time when I told you I was going to teach Freddie to be a man once and for all, then you laughed at me? Yeah, so my Man Sensei instincts come in here, overtaking my better judgment. "You haven't? Why not Freddo? Not on your game?" Yeah, I can't help but to get into character. Because honestly, in this particular case, a game-less Freddie suit me and my couch quite a lot nicer than one who has game. Wow. My new role as Man Sensei has overtaken my usual creepy feeling when dwelling on the thoughts of Freddie and Sam and intimacy and such. But still, ew. Not that I dwell often! No, honestly. In all seriousness. Dwelling is only brought up when things, such as Diggy's 'popping', occur.

"Uh, because I just haven't?" Freddie isn't too sure what to think of Sensei me.

Okay, I am about to give Freddie this 'Come on, be a man' speech (though in this scenario the component that makes him a man is something that I would normally wish never to happen, ever. Like I said, I get _way_ into character if you even give me the smallest opportunity to create one. I got kicked out of Carly's school once on 'Career Day' when I came in tell the kids about being an artist. Yeah, I was this close to cutting off my ear as to prove my point that art is extreme. Oh well, Van Gogh is the man. The stub-for-an-ear man, but still the man).

All I do is waggle my eyebrows a bit suggestively before I begin the speech, and Freddie gets this strange look on his face. It's not the discomfort, or the sorrow, or the strain, but the disappointment in the look he gives me that snaps me back to reality. What am I doing? I am not Man Sensei. And, ew! We are still talking about Sam and Freddie here. I'm just uncomfortable seeing them hold hands. And Freddie is not some random kid who I am going to tell to man-up just to seem like a man myself. Freddie is pretty much my little brother, and he needs some advice. I guess I'm the only older guy he really has. Whatever in the good name of spaghetti Sam has done to the poor kid, it's obviously bothering him. Okay, time to put away Man Sensei and let Spencer resurface. Freddie needs my help.

Ah man, now I feel all mushy.

"Well, just take your time then Freddie. Seriously. Or just don't at all. Wait till you guys are married, that way it'll never happen," I conclude. Freddie looks up at me, a bit surprised, but thankful all the same. Then an uncomfortable thought (yes, a thought) occurs to me. "Uh...you, um. You know how it all works and stuff, right?"

"Yes," he says quickly. Good ol' Freddie, always keen to avoid awkward situations. Though he tends to create them at times.

"Right," I slap my forehead. "Duh. I'm sure your mom gave you a manual and everything." Freddie doesn't answer, but his grimace confirms my assumption. "So, what is it then?"

"Well, I want to take Sam out on a date." He looks completely down cast as he admits this.

"Uh, what do you call all the time you spend on my couch?"

"Not a date!" Freddie confirms.

"We could light some candles next time Sam comes over to watch the fight, and you could wear a tux-,"

"Come on Spence. I'm serious."

I am too. "Well, what were you thinking?"

Freddie sighs. "I don't know...just, a real date."

"You guys seriously haven't had on of those yet?"

Freddie looks down at his hands in his lap. "I've asked her, like twenty times." He looks up at me. "But she keeps turning my down. Can you believe that?"

I almost laugh. Almost. I refrain for Freddie's sake. "Turning you down?"

"Yeah, like, 'Sorry Fredward, but I don't date nubs.' And this bothers me, because I thought we _were _dating."

"Shouldn't it bother you that she called you a nub?"

"Irrelevant."

"Have you asked her to be your girlfriend?" Wow, I am helping them with this 'thing' they are doing. I just can't help myself. Freddie looks so distressed and lost right now.

He heaves a long sigh. "Yeah. And she said that she doesn't really like labels. But I _think_ she agreed as long as I never refer to her as my girlfriend. She said I have to call her 'captain' or something. Captain!"

"Hmm..." I bring my hand to my chin, trying my best to look thoughtful. Honestly, I have no idea what to think. I mean, it's Sam. God only knows what is going on in that kid's head. If Freddie would just date a normal girl, I may be able to help him out. "How about you save yourself a lot of pain and end this now." The fact that that would also save my couch a lot of pain is just an added bonus.

Freddie sighs. "Trust me, I've tried to get myself to do it. I really, really have. It would be a lot better for my emotional and physical health, I'm sure," he says gravely. Then a slow and involuntary smile spreads across his face. "But…it's just Sam. And for whatever insane reason, I can't imagine my life without her." He looks up thoughtfully and adds as an afterthought, "Or without living in fear."

In spite of myself, I let out a little chuckle. I should be thinking about how disgusting this whole thing is, right? But I'm not. And I have no idea why.

"Well, you are just going to have to buckle down and ask her out again. I mean, I don't really know with Sam, but it sounds like she might consider you two to be…er, dating." That sounds so weird coming out of my mouth. "Just try asking her again."

"I know, I know." He exhales then crosses his arms. "But like you said, it's Sam. Who knows what she'll do. I mean, she could either get the frying pan and chase me around for bothering her about it again, or she could tackle me onto the couch and-,"

"Yeah, yeah! I know the rest." I shudder. "Gah, you realize I'm usually in here when that happens?"

Freddie looks a bit uncomfortable. "Oh, right. Sorry. We'll try to tone that down, I guess."

"Thank you," I breath. We are quiet for a few minutes. I am just enjoying my couch. This is seriously the most wonderful thing that has happened to me in months. Well, besides Mandy.

"Hey, if it would make you feel better, we could do a double date type thing." Oh no! That slipped. I would love nothing more than to not go on a date with Sam and Freddie.

"No, Sam would never allow it," Freddie sighs. "Carly's already asked us numerous to go along with her and Zach. But Sam is…well that idea just doesn't thrill her."

"Ah." Stupid Zach. Sorry, that's a habit. But I must admit, I like the kid a lot better these days. He's been over a few times and he seems pretty cool, I guess. But the big thing that convinced me was gaining the knowledge that the kid's dad owns a cheese factory. A cheese factory! Imagine if they got married or something…free cheese! Dude, cheese. Did you know that there are 670 known cheeses in the world? My personal favorite is Fromage de Montagne de Savoie. Yes, that is a real cheese. A close second is Daralagjazsky. This is a well known cheese throughout Russia, and it has this awesome garlicky zing to it. Trust me, I know my cheese. Did you know that fifty-four of the six hundred and seventy cheeses start with the letter 'm'. You did? Wow, you just can't resist killing my joy, can you?

We are silent for awhile. Boredom creeps in. I grab for the remote, only to be beaten to it by Freddie. Okay, when did he get coordinated? "Can you turn please? Don't tell Sam, but MMA fights scare me."

Freddie chuckles. "Sorry, but Sam told me to tape it. Can't turn." He pauses. "She threatened me actually. And I do enjoy my limbs being attached to my body, so…"

I sigh. "You and Sam still haven't gotten past the violence, I take it?"

Freddie sighs too. "Nope." He looks over at me, smiling. "Keeps things interesting though."

I laugh as I settle back into the couch. This shakes Diggy a bit, who is fast asleep still perched on my head. He awakes with a loud screech, puffs his feathers menacingly at me, then swoops across the room. He lands on the plate of lasagna in Godzilla's hands, a little disappointed to find it's made of clay.

"I still hate that bird," Freddie says.

"I am beginning to hate him too," I agree. "But Sam and Carly love him, and their votes seem to be dominant over ours. We're just guys after all."

Freddie nods. "Yeah, I know."

Hmm… "You know what Freddo?"

He looks a bit alarmed at my sudden excitement. "Uh, no. I'm guessing it has to do with cheese though."

"Yes. Yes it does." Wait. "Er, no, I mean. It has to do with you and Sam."

Fred sighs, "Alright. If you must."

"You don't need to ask her out," I say. I lean closer to him to deepen the thrill of the moment. He follows suit expectantly. "_Tell_ her out."

Freddie leans back, watching me as if I were some sort of loon. I'm not a loon. I just know a lot about cheese and Pig Latin and I occasionally eat soap...and steal birds...and consume ungainly amounts of waffles in one sitting. Okay, you can drop it. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah I'm serious! Don't let Sam push you around anymore. Be a man, Benson!"

Freddie looks skeptical, but as my words slowly sink in, he perks up saying, "You know what, you're right."

"Yeah I am--wait, I'm right?"

"Yeah." His voice grows in excitement as he says, "I will just TELL her that we are going out on a date."

"There you go Freddo! Take the initiative!" Oh no. He's gonna die. Could I get charged for man slaughter in this scenario?

"I will! Next time I see her-," and as if we are some laugh-trackish sitcom TV show, guess who enters the room? Carly, who is carrying a shopping bag hanging from every bone in her body, and more importantly Sam, who is carrying a half-eaten pretzel. Freddie's words seems to catch in his mouth, and he actually chokes for a second. I hit his back a few times as the girls walk past us into the kitchen.

"Thank you so much for all of your help Sam," Carly says as she heaves the bags onto the table.

Sam chooses not to pick up her sarcasm. "Don't mention it Carls." She slips out of her maroon pirate overcoat and repositions her eye patch, giving choking Fred a bored look. "What's wrong with Dorkboy?" she asks, no sounding too concerned.

"He needs to ask, er, TELL you something. Right Freddo?" I give him a little push toward Sam.

Freddie gulps. "Right." Sam cocks an eyebrow as she stuffs a large portion of the giant pretzel into her mouth. "Uh." Freddie takes another reluctant step toward her. He struggles for a minute, giving Sam time to draw her conclusions.

"You forgot to tape the fight!" She throws the remainder of her pretzel at Freddie, then picks it up off the ground and begins eating the rest.

Freddie raises his hands soothingly as he says, "NO! No, no, no. The fight is taping right now. I promise. I just need to-,"

"The fight's still on?" Sam skips out to the living room and plops down on the couch. Her mouth drops and her eyes get all glazed at the sight of the large grunting men.

"Sam, Freddie has something to tell you," I try.

Sam is still in her MMA trance when she answers, "Just…Just tell Freddipher I'm at home--Oh come on! He wasn't even unconscious! I swear they'll stop the fight for anything these days."

Carly joins Sam on the couch. "Sam, I think he broke his nose. And Freddie is right here. He knows you're not at home."

Sam still isn't satisfied. "That would have been a KO for Cliff! Damn it!" Oh, she's still talking about the fight.

Freddie gives me a concerned look. I just nod, willing him to go on. "Just do it man. Right now. Go."

He takes a deep breath, then walks into the living room. "Sam!" he says assertively. She ignores him. Hey, welcome to my life kiddo. "SAM!" He tries again.

"The fight's on Benson. No girls allowed. Get out of here." But he only moves in front of the TV, blocking the die-hard fight fan's view. "Cliff was just about to put Carter into submission you stupid nub! Get out of here!" She throws the rest of her pretzel at him again. Then she regrets it. "Dig!" The bird swoops down form his perch on Godzilla's plate and pecks Freddie's hand as he reaches for the pretzel. Diggory picks it up in his beak and glides up to Sam's lap. See what I mean when I say I can't get rid of him? Sam pats his head as she takes another bite.

Freddie crosses his arms and takes a defiant stance. "Listen to me, then I'll move." Carly gives him a warning look. But Freddie already knows exactly what he is getting himself into. I lean back against the counter as I continue watching my handiwork. Freddie is glaring at Sam with an equally stubborn look to the one she is giving him. Aw, I'm so proud of my little man. Oh no. I sound like a soccer mom. That's so weird 'cause I totally had the urge to buy a mini van today. Crazy stuff.

"Fine! What the hell is it Benson?"

Freddie inhales angrily then tells her, "You are going out with me tonight." Atta' boy.

Sam laughs. "Ha, good one. Okay Frederly move it."

"Sam," Frederly whines. Frederly, that's funny.

"Sam," Carly says with a bit more composure than Frederly. "You can't keep turning him down like this. You have to agree sometime."

Sam smirks. "No, he has to stop asking sometime." She turns back to Freddie. "I let you talk, now move!"

Freddie's frustrated expression turns into a glare. "Not until you say yes." Sam raises her eyebrows and tilts her head in warning. "Do you want to watch the fight or not?"

"You're taping it, Fredqueer. I can just watch it some other time."

"Hmm...what's that?" Freddie leans toward the TV he's blocking and cups his ear. "Did he just say _knockout_?"

"Ahh! Move!" Sam yells.

"Say yes then!" Freddie threatens.

"No-," Sam is interrupted by an explosion of cheers from the TV. "Urgh. Fine! I will go on a date with you."

Before Freddie can heave a relieved sigh, Diggy blurts out, "Raawt! I will date Freddie!" He looks up at Sam, expecting a small treat of sorts. Sam just glares at him. Diggy drops his head and 'pop's quietly as he inches away from her.

Sam looks back up at Freddie. "But you have to ask me first."

"I already did," Freddie says, repositioning himself away from the TV. "Hey, looks like your boy Cliff won Sam."

I can tell that Sam is completely psyched out of her mind to gain this knowledge, but she keeps a straight face as she says, "You didn't ask me, you told me."

Freddie sighs and looks over to me for approval. I shake my head. "Don't sink to that level."

"Spencer," Carly warns. She rolls her eyes when I shrug.

"Alright, fine." Freddie turns to Sam. "Would you like to go out on a date with me?" He subconsciously falls to his knee, I think, and half-raises his arms to her.

Sam smirks at the helpless positions she can put the boy in. "Fine. But there better be large quantities of meat involved, or you'll regret it."

"Anything," Freddie says eagerly. He realizes he's on his knees and rises awkwardly. He looks over at me.

"Wow, way to show some back bone there Freddo," I say. All of my useful teachings...wasted.

Freddie sighs as he takes a place in the couch in between Sam and Carls. "Hey Freddie, go make me a sammich."

"No, Sam, we've been over this. Make your own sandwich."

"So this date isn't all that important to you, I take it." Freddie turns to her with a 'you wouldn't dare' look. "'Cuase, man, I just don't feel like going anymore."

"Ah, fine," he huffs. He stalks off to the kitchen. "Ham, I take it?"

Sam grabs the remote and restarts the taped fight. Carly smiles as Sam says, "You know me too well."

Hello. Welcome to Whipped City. Population: Freddo.

* * *

**I just assumed that Sam wouldn't be too keen on making things official, and Freddie would feel like they needed to actually go on a date to take the next step. Where as Sam might be content with occasional make out sessions on the couch. I don't know. Heh. Just how I interpret their strange relationship, I guess. This chapter's purpose was to kind of take them to the next step. So this IS going somewhere. Don't worry. We are just taking the rambling Spencer route. **

**Okay, next one is has a lot of one of my favorite characters whom I haven't mentioned too much yet. Share the love, review. It doesn't even half to be a nice review. Criticism and critiques make me better and are welcomed with open arms. Alrighty, peace! **

**I can't wait to post the next one. It may be my personal favorite so far. Oh, and everything in the cheese rambling is factual. **


	9. Maybe it's not my couch

**I apologize if there are numerous spellings of 'ketchup (or catsup)' throughout this chapter. When I finally decided on which one to use, I tired to go back and change them all, but I don't know if I got every single one. So, again, sorry. I hope this doesn't bother you terribly (but if you have OCD like myself, then I'm dearly sorry about this little mishap. Don't have a nervous breakdown). Okay, enjoy.  
**

**And sorry for any other grammatical/spelling errors. It was either post this bad boy tonight, or wait until tomorrow and edit. So yeah, shouldn't be too many though. But if you do see one, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to send me a PM and let me know. Or tell me an error that sticks out in a review. You guys are very ****communicative ****capable human beings, I'm sure.  
**

**Ages: Seventeen. Fall/winter of Junior year.**

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Hello (now you say it back…). Okay, great. What's up? HA! Yeah right! Lalalalalalala! I'm not listening to what's up with you! Lalalala! You guys never care what I have to say, so why should I listen to you? LalaLALALA! If you really need someone to listen to you why not try Sam or Freddie? What? Oh gotcha. Because Freddie would probably just babble on about electrical wiring, and Sam, unless you bring gifts of baked beans, will probably break your thumbs. Hmm…so this is why you come to me. I understand now.

Okay, sorry for flipping out there. I am deeply concerned with 'what's up'. So? Oh, nothing is up...Why do I even bother? Hey! Speaking of flipping out, I have a story to tell you.

So we are sitting in my living room. We being me, Freddie, Sam-o, and Carls. Sam-o…yeah I just came up with that. I know, I'm pretty clever.

"Hey Sam-o, could you not spill ketchup all over the couch?"

She looks over at me with an expression of shear disbelief. "Sam-o? SAM-O?"

"…Er, Captain Sam-o?"

She shrugs. "Hmm…I could deal with that. High Ruler Sam-o would suit me better though." Freddie silently shakes his head as he and Carly exchange glances. Sam continues getting ketchup on my couch.

"Those french fries better be pretty amazing," I tell her as I get up to grab a wet rag in the kitchen. "Hey Sam, could you--OH MY SIZZLING DEEP FAT FRIED PUDDING! Diggy?"

Carly immediately jumps up and rushes over to join me in the kitchen. Freddie cranes his head around, looking concerned. Sam smirks as she turns up the volume of the TV. "Spence, could you quiet down? The fight's on."

I'm a bit angry at this point. I keep my composure though. I am the adult, after all. What? Hey, I _am_! "Sorry, didn't know." But I should've known. She's got her fight-watching attire on with the old purple jersey and a pair of Freddie's sweat pants, (which now have the yellow letters 'Property of Sam Puckett' sewn across the butt) and of course her black battle paint applied carefully on her cheeks. "But do you know what happened to Diggy?" My eyes fall upon the motionless bird again. He's lying on his back across the counter, gut protruding slightly, with what looks Fat Cakes wrappers surrounding his unmoving form.

"Sam," Carly whines. "You killed Diggory!"

Sam doesn't look away from the TV as she says, "Naw, he just crashed. Sugar rush."

I shake my head as a poke the unconscious bird. "Wow, I take a nap for, like, twenty minutes and you get ketchup all over my couch and almost kill my bird."

Sam shrugs then ruffles Freddie's hair. "Hey, we didn't make out," she offers. Freddie makes an uncomfortable face as he watches Sam in disbelief. "That's a plus."

"That is definitely a plus," I say as Carly and I clean up what's left of the Fat Cakes. "Just don't feed Diggy anymore sugar, okay?"

"Can't make that promise."

Freddie sighs. "Don't worry. I will keep an eye on her from now on." Sam grabs a pillow and, for whatever reason, whacks Freddo's face. He glares down at her and she smiles, shoving the pillow down on his lap and resting her head on it. He 'tuts' looking as if he would love nothing better than to shove her off, but he doesn't. Mayor of Whipped City.

"Yeah! Kill him! No...NO! Yes! Okay...Alright! Submission baby! Ow, _ow_!"

"Don't hurt yourself there Sammy," Freddie muses. Sam reaches back and tweaks his cheek to express her excitement for the current MMA action.

"That's a sleeper hold almost worthy of us!"

Freddie laughs. "Yeah, almost."

Carly cleans up the mess on the counter as I pick up Diggory's limp form. I hold him in my arms and rock him gently as I make my way back to the living room. We sit for a few more minutes listening to the excited announcers on the TV to and Sam and Fred fighting, and arguing, and reminiscing, and cheering loudly (mainly High Ruler Sam-o). Half way through the second round, there's a shrill knock on the door. Nobody moves.

Sam is still laying across Freddie's lap, but now, in all the excitement that is MMA, she's holding his head down in a head lock. She never fails to find new head locking position. "Ouch, Sam! My Spinal chord," Freddie chokes. He is answered by an explosion of 'Whoop whoop' from the angry MMA-watching blonde. Oh, don't feel bad for him! It's his own fault you know. He could've gone for some normal girl, but no, he has to go all head over heels for possibly the most dangerous young girl I have ever had the privilege of meeting. Or not so privilege, I guess.

"Okay, the one doing all the work in the kitchen. I'll get the door," Carly says with a sadistic tone.

"Thanks," I say as I kick my feet up on the coffee table and settle into my chair. Hey! Diggy just opened and closed his mouth. We have movement people!

"Oh, hey Mrs. Benson." Red flag. The room grows a bit tense as Carly allows her inside. He's trying to be elusive about it, but I can still see Freddie pinching the arm Sam has locked around his neck. But Sam is completely ignoring her surroundings at this time.

"No! Gibson you idiot! Come on! You had him in a freakin' arm bar!"

Mrs B. takes in the couch scene with great concern. "Freddie! Are you alright dear? Is she hurting you?" Then she suddenly stops her frantic worrying. "You've got some dirt on you face, Samantha."

"I'm fine," Freddie wheezes. "And it's not dirt, it's her battle pant. It's MMA Sunday today." Freddie yelps as Sam suddenly jerks him around in excitement for a sweaty man locking another sweaty man in a hold of some sort. Mrs. B gets this crazed expression as she strides toward the couch.

I stand up from my chair, forgetting about Dig and letting him fall to the floor, and intercept Mrs. B by her arm. She shakes off my hold and hits me a few times with her purse. "Ah! Mrs. B, it's alright. They're fine."

She reaches desperately for Sam and Freddie again. I grab her shoulders and try to hold her back. I can only imagine the pain Sam may inflict if Mrs. B reaches them if her thoughts are clouded by the fight. Like, right now, Sam just elbowed Freddie in the gut because her boy on the TV lost his upper hand sleeper hold on the other guy. As if to make up for the loss, Sam subconsciously tightens her hold on Freddie.

"Could you guys, like, move!" Sam bobs her head around trying to see the TV behind us. This forces Freddie around too, and he lets out a small pained yelp.

"LET GO OF HIM RIGHT NOW!" Mrs. B screams. Carly decides to help me out and gets to Sam and Freddie before his crazy mother can. She pries Sam's arms from around Freddie's neck. Sam instinctively throws a punch, but then sees that Freddo's rescuer is Carly.

"Oh! Sorry Carls," she says as Carly's hand flies up to her eye. "Oops. Uh, you may want to get some ice."

Carly scowls then heads off to the kitchen, mumbling something like, "So this is what I get for trying to help. Nice." She grabs one of the ice packs that we keep ready in the freezer on MMA Sundays, then slams the stainless steel door shut, stalking back over to us. After Mrs. B is done overseeing Carly's icing, she turns on Sam and Freddie again. Then she scoffs as Sam bends down to pick up the limp bird from the floor where he rolled after falling off my lap. Sam shakes him a bit, tries and fails to sit him up right on Freddo's shoulder, then shrugs and tosses him back to me.

"Careful!" I say as my hands shoot up to catch the bird. I bring him down gently and begin rocking him in my arms. Mrs. B watches this with wide eyes. Her eyes only widen as they fall upon the giant Godzilla in the corner. Then her mouth completely drops as she takes in the massive pile of Fat Cakes wrappers spread across the coffee table.

"Fredward, are those-," she can't even complete her thought. Her state of shock is overwhelming at this point.

"Uh, no. Sam ate them all," Freddie lies. Well, he may not be lying actually. I mean Sam gets a bit protective over the Fat Cakes, especially on MMA Sunday (which seems to be turning into a holiday for our little group...a violent holiday, but a holiday).

"Good," Mrs. B says, that shrill tone of surprise still in her voice. "Because trans fat is the root of all evil."

Sam tries to voice her extreme disagreement, but Freddie is quick to cover her mouth. Sam probably shouldn't talk at all in this delicate situation. Sam then licks the palm of his hand, and Freddie pulls back, disgusted. "Don't act like it bothered you, dweeb."

Mrs. B watches this exchange with a conclusive expression. She unfolds a piece of purple clothing she had tucked under her arm. "Freddie, I just found this in your room. I came over to see who it belongs to." She holds up the zebra striped hoody.

I can see the wheels in Freddie's head turning, trying to come up with a suitable lie. But it's too late. Sam's already recognized her long lost piece of clothing. "Oh! There it is!" Sam leans forward and snatches it out of Mrs. B's hands.

Freddie watches in horror as Mrs. B crosses her arms, eying him accusingly. "I thought you said you had a girlfriend now. What exactly is Sam's jacket doing in your room?" Freddie sputters for a second, then is cut off by Mrs. B's further inquisitions. "I don't know her yet, but I'm just your little girlfriend would not enjoy learning the knowledge that Samantha Puckett's jacket was in your room!" Freddie's eyes widen in almost an exact resemblance of his psycho mother. Sam smirks as she realizes what brought about the current situation.

"So Fredison, who's the girlfriend?"she asks. From behind the ice pack, Carly gives Sam a warning scowl, trying to tell her not to make the situation any worse for Freddie. But, apparently Sam thinks that is her job description. Making things worse for Freddie. "He's so shy about his love life," she says sweetly, turning to Mrs. B with a smile.

Mrs. B isn't buying it. "Excuse me Samantha. Maybe _you_ can tell me why your jacket was in my son's room." Sam glares up at her. Uh oh. I know that glare.

"Hey..." I start, not knowing quite what I'm about to say, but knowing that I need to say something. "Er...cheese. No! Uh-," Mrs. B is watching me with a concerned look. Oh no, that's the look she gave me before she tried to take me to that doctor. I am not going back to the padded room again. "Um, would you like to sit down, Mrs. Benson?"

She scans the room with distaste. "No, Spencer, I'm fine. Thank you."

I scratch the back of my head awkwardly. "Yeah, erm...no problem. Uh, how about Godzilla?" I point excitedly to my master piece. "You like him? You like lasagna?" Okay, I'll admit I'm just stalling for Sam and Freddie so they have time to come up with some valid excuse. Wow, this is so not what I should be doing. I am helping the little conniving and obnoxious keepers of my couch keep their relationship a seceret from Freddo's psychotic mother. Have I completely lost it? Don't answer that.

"No, I do not like lasagna. I hope you have not been serving it around here, because Freddie is lactose intolerant," she states.

"I am not Mom!"

She turns to her son and says soothingly, "It has never hurt to take precautions, dear."

Freddie frowns. "Yeah it has," he says, pulling up his sleeve and revealing an array of colored bandaids covering his shoulder.

"Shots?" Sam asks, poking a bright pink bandaid.

He yelps. "Ouch! Yes Sam, shots."

Well, I think I have caused a suitable distraction. I am awesome.

But Mrs. B seems to still be on a mission. "Well, do either of you have an answer for me about the jacket?"

"Freddie's a stalker!" Sam blurts out. "He gave up on Carly, and now he's moved on to me. And he's stealing my stuff, doing freaky voo doo crap on it to get me to fall in love with him!"

Mrs. B gives up on Sam. "Fredward Benson, last time, why was her jacket in your room?"

Sam shrugs and pats Freddie's knee. "It's all you Benny-boy." She kicks her feet up on the table and continues munching her fries and watching the fight. Carly let's out a disapproving 'tut', but I can tell she's as amused with the situation as I am. It was going to happen eventually.

Freddie struggles for a moment, then surrenders under his mother's stern glare. "Alright, alright. I had Sam over last night." He glances at Sam as she stuffs another handful of fries in her mouth then yells something at the TV. He subconsciously wipes ketchup from her chin as he turns back to his mother, who is looking rather suspicious at this time.

"Was that really last night?" Sam asks through mouthfuls.

"Yeah," Freddie says, frowning. "You made me hit my head on the headboard, and I bled...a lot." Sam nods in fond remembrance.

Uh oh. "And what exactly were you DOING to cause you to hit your head on the headboard?" Mrs. B asks, torn between being affronted and disgusted.

"Wrestling," Sam answers, spraying my couch with more ketchup from her mouth.

"No seriously," I step in as Mrs. B gets this alarming look on her face. "They wrestle. It's what they do. And it's not just for fun, trust me." Man, I'm glad to hear that they were just wrestling.

But Mrs. B isn't quite as happy. "Freddie, you bled? You can't allow yourself to bleed! You're a haemophiliac!"

"I AM NOT, Mom!"

"There's always a chance that the labs are wrong, dear. Remember that."

Sam smirks as Freddie frowns. "Cool mom, Benson."

Mrs. B is still determined to get to the bottom of the jacket situation. I prop Diggy up as I put my feet up on the coffee table. Carly does the same. Things are getting rather interesting. "Since when do you two hang out without Carly?"

"Since Carly passed away," Sam states. Not her best lie, but she has an excuse. Midway through the third round, and things in MMA world are getting pretty fired up.

Carly muses, "No Sam. I'm still here," sounding like she is rather enjoying herself.

"Since we started dating!" Freddie blurts out. Then he immediately covers his mouth and cowers in Sam's wake.

Sam uses every bit of restraint she has to hold herself back from a beat down. No use giving Mrs. B more to worry about right now. I'm sure a good beating will occur in the near future, though. "Wow Fredrica. Way to stick to our agreement there kiddo." Kiddo? Sam is hanging around me too much. Well, my terminology _is _a bit catchy. Okay, I'm flattered.

"Dating? DATING?" Mrs. B looks at Freddie as if he's on his death bed or something. "Oh, Honey! What kind of mother am I to let you get so confused?"

Sam scoffs. "I'm not confused," Freddie says quickly, risking a glance at Sam. She is watching him with her arms crossed and her signature pissed off expression. Freddie hunches his shoulders a bit as he continues, "I mean, I know it sounds crazy. But-," he takes Sam's hand "we, uh...we-,"

"You are so lame Benson," Sam informs him, extracting her hand from his.

"Yeah, I know."

"Freddie," Mrs. B whines. "You realize how bad this is for your mental and physical health, right?"

"Yes, Mom, I know." He rubs the back of his neck at the mention of 'physical health'. Sam smirks triumphantly.

Mrs. B drops her voice to a whisper, as if Sam won't be able to hear, "Then break up with her. Please, before it's too late."

"Mom," Freddie whines. "I'm not going to break up with her." Sam doesn't look angry, just amused now.

Mrs. B isn't giving up yet though. She turns to Sam. "Samantha? Freddie seems a little misguided at this time. If you really care about him, you will save him the pain and end this now."

"Mom!" Freddie starts again.

"Well, I guess I really don't care about him then." She lightly smacks Freddo's cheek a few times before intertwining her hand with his.

For being told by his girlfriend that she doesn't care about him, Freddie is rather smiley. Diggy squawks his agreement from my lap. Dig? Diggy?

"Carly! He's alive!"

Diggy slowly blinks to life, fluttering his wings and kicking his feet. He lets out a weak, "Rawt," followed by "Freddie is a queer!" Then he sits up and takes his place on my shoulder.

"Aw! Diggy," Carly cries as she pets him affectionately.

"What did that bird just say?" Mrs. B asks, affronted. But she still hasn't taken her eyes of Sam and Freddie's intertwined hands. And Freddie still can't contain his smile. Sam actually allowing him to hold her hand, it doesn't happen very often.

"Only the truth," Sam says. Freddie frowns briefly. Then Sam begins drawing small circles over his knuckles with her finger and he's all grinny again.

"Come on Fredward!" Mrs. B yells. "We are going to be late for mother-son synchronized swimming class."

"Mom," Freddie whines.

"Right now young man!"

Freddie sighs. "Bye guys," he offers to us. He lets go of Sam's hand and kisses her softly. "Bye Sam." Then he gets up, head hung, and follows after his mother, batting away her offered hand.

Sam bites the corner of her lip indecisively for a moment then bursts out, "Freddo, wait!"

Freddie turns around excitedly. "Yeah?"

"Uh," Sam looks at me, then at Carly, then she eyes Mrs. B. "Could you hand me my french fries?"

Freddie sighs. "Sam, they're right on the coffee table. You just have to reach, like, three inches." But he's already handed them to her by the time he finishes saying this.

"Whatever, dork." Freddie sighs again, then turns to his now fuming mother. He takes two reluctant steps, then stops. He clenches and unclenches his fists for a moment, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Then, all of the sudden, he whips around and his hands find the sides of Sam's face as he stoops down to kiss her again.

Diggy squawks and starts 'popping' excitedly as Sam wraps her hands around the back of Freddie's neck and the kiss deepens. Mrs. B clutches her chest as her arm swings wildly trying to find the door frame. Once it does, she stables herself and takes a few deep breaths before yelling, "Fredward Gerald Benson! We are leaving RIGHT NOW young man!" She is red in the face...and the eyes. She means bidniz.

Freddie sighs and kisses Sam one more time before turning around and finally following his mother across the hall. Sam smirks as she kicks her feet back up on the coffee table and leans back into the couch.

"You happy?" Carly asks, returning to the kitchen to put her ice pack back in the freezer. Her eye is a bit purple, but at least the swelling has gone down. It is seriously a miracle that she and Sam are still best friends. "Now Freddie's mom is never going to let him out of her sight again."

"Eh," Sam swings her hand dismissively. "Crazy is just gonna have to get used to things." She stuffs a few more french fries in her mouth as she goes back to watching the fight, dripping ketchup everywhere.

"Sam," I start. But I sigh and make my way aimlessly to the kitchen. There's already a broken armrest from their wrestling, and the large gray spot from the smoothie that found its way to Freddie's head, and not to mention the fact that when nobody's on the couch it sags to the shapes of Sam and Freddo. What's a ketchup stain to mark another memory anyway?

Hmm...maybe it's not my couch.

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**I know in my other fic that this was 'inspired' by, Crazy has already found out about the two dating before this point. But, I went ahead with it anyway. Yes, it is loosely based off iCan't Stand Her, but it's still its own story. So...yeah, hope this doesn't bother you guys to much. And if it does, I am honestly sorry. Hope you were still able to enjoy this chapter. **

**You know what's really creepy? I've been calling everyone 'kiddo' these days. I get weird looks, especially when those people are older than me. Teachers, I have found, do not enjoy being called 'kiddo' by their more troublesome students. Hmmm...I feel that Diggy may have lost some of his charm, being unconsciousness to whole chapter. Heh. Okay, thanks. **

**Review, and have peace and some happiness. Oh and pray that I do well on my oral report over 'Greek Gods and Goddesses' in first period tomarrow. Yeah, I haven't even begun reading the book yet. But don't worry, I'm pretty known for being rather good at BSing my way through these oral reports. Heh. Next chapter will be out by tomarrow or possibly the next day. Okay, see ya kiddos. Ahh! I meant 'guys'! See ya guys. **


	10. More random tales from my couch

**I don't think _interspecism_ is a word, but Spencer wouldn't know that. Oh, I bet you guys are wondering where that comes in. Sorry, it has nothing to do with Diggy. Heh...wait, ew...**

**Ages: seventeen/eighteen. **

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Hey guys. It's me, Spencer. But you know that, right? You should. We're friends! Sort of. Hmm...you know what? I finally figured out the strange relationship you and I are developing. Parasitism. Yeah, that's right, I know big words. What'cha gonna do 'bout it? Yes, it is a parasitistic relationship. You're only denying it because you'd be the parasite in our relationship, always taking from me and never returning the favor. Think about it! You're the only one who benefits here. While I am throwing myself out there, giving you everything. Well, not everything. But it takes a lot for me to recount the couch memories without throwing up! Urgh. What do you say we change our parasitism to mutualism and you bake me some cookies. Cyber-cookies work. Or you could just come and drop them by my place (if you are a true iCarly fan, you know where I live).

Alright, so since you got the cookie hook up, I suppose I should tell you a story. Well once upon a time, there was a small furry critter named Roger. Roger had fallen in love with Princess Cockatoo, but there was one problem, Roger was a gopher. King Cockatoo did not support interspecism and it was illegal to portray publicly in his kingdom. And to worsen Roger's misery, Roger was a plumber. So, one day, Rog the plumber was scurrying down the street, when-,

What? Oh, you don't care about Roger the plumbing gopher? Your loss. It's a great story.

I am sighing right now, just to let you know. And it's not a 'Mandy sigh', it's an exasperated sigh. Very exasperated. Welp, time to get to the point I suppose. Without further ado, a few more epic tales from the couch; in which Carly takes yet another shower, Diggy squawks a bit, I mourn the loss of my furniture, and Sam and Freddo do some crazy and annoying stuff in their zone that makes me want to gag. Enjoy.

"SAM!"

"Aw, Fredster's angry. How cute."

Freddie decides to ignore the fact that Sam called him cute. He closes the door behind him as he strides into my apartment toward my (sort of 'my') couch. Sam smiles up at him sweetly. But he's not going to put up with it today. "Sam! You can't do things like this!"

"Like what, Dorkface? You're gonna have to be more clear."

"Well let's think. What have you recently gone out of your way to do to cause me pain? Hmm..."

"You are really gonna have to be more specific." She smirks. "Unless you want me to start naming them off. Let's see here...I stole your lunch everyday except Thursday this week. Um, I wrote 'I heart small critters' on you're arm while you were taking a nap in study hall-,"

"That was you?" Freddie asks, a little distracted from his previous anger.

Sam ignores him. "Uh, then I changed your name to 'Sam Puckett' on that history report and handed it in-,"

"Sam! That counts for fifty percent of our grade this semester! Please tell me you're kidding."

Sam shrugs. "Okay, I'm kidding." Hmm...she doesn't sound too convincing.

Freddie huffs as he shakes his head. "Stop. I want to address the issue at hand here." There's some ruffling of paper as he reaches into his back pocket, extracting a highlight green flier. Whoa, that's bright! I'm just sayin...

A slow smile spreads across Sam's face as he unfolds the paper and holds it up. Hmm...I'm curious. I get up from my place, sprawled across the kitchen table, and skip out to the living room to get a better look. It's a picture of Freddie with lipstick all over his mouth and some crudely applied eyeliner. Oh yeah! That was the time Sam put makeup all over his face while he was sleeping, and paid all of us five dollars (of Freddo's money) not to tell him about it. Ah, her evil actions had an evil intention all along. Underneath the picture of the confused and made-up Fredster are the words 'Vote Fredilina Benson as your Prom Queen, and all of your wildest dreams will come true'. That...that is...that is horrible....mmm...pffft! Heh! Bwaahahaha! Oh Sam...good stuff. And Freddie's incredulous expression as he watches Sam with her proud smirk right now is quite classic, I might add.

"Seriously Sam? You posted these all over Jeffrey's hall."

"Actually, all over every hall," Sam says, trying to hold back her joyful snorts.

Freddie shifts his weight and crosses his arms. "Real mature, Sam. Real mature."

Sam rolls her eyes as she pulls him down onto the couch next to her. "Not all of us are blessed with such a cool mom to teach us how to be proper and cultivated like yourself."

Freddie just shakes his head in disbelief. "Do NOT try to shake this off like it's no big deal. It's a big deal!" Sam just sighs and grabs my remote control. Freddie huffs angrily and settles, arms crossed and irritated expression set. When they remain in this position for a few minutes, I go back to my lounging across the kitchen table. I guess they aren't in the mood to be entertaining today.

I am finally falling into that little state you go into right before you're asleep, (you know, the one where all that random stuff goes through your head like for me right now; a box, baby elephants, Mandy, Mandy riding a baby elephant, noodles, and Pumba from 'Lion King'...you get the point) when Freddie's phone sounds off in an explosion of Aqua's 'Barbie Girl'. Freddie, a bit pink in the face, clicks it off hurriedly.

"Sweet ringtone." Awww, I was almost asleep too.

"You're the one who put it on there," Freddie says defensively, checking the received text. "No need to be weisenheiming."

"Weisenheiming?" she repeats. "You can't use words _weisenheiming_ and expect me not to hurt you."

"I'm sorry, Sam." He resituates himself to give her his full attention. "What I meant to say was 'stop being such a smart ass'!" Heh. What? It's funny.

"Oh no! Fweddy just used a foul word. Alert his dear mother," she says, smirking.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about!" Seriously, I want to take a nap. All these two do is yell. When Sam only shakes her head and turns back to the TV, Freddie reads the text he just recieved. As his eyes skim down the screen, his face falls in horror. "SAM!"

"Holy shit, Benson! What the hell is it this time?" She slams the remote down on the couch. "If you need ointment or something, go talk to your mom."

"I do not need ointment!" Freddie says, though by the end of this interjection he sounds a bit unsure. "Ointment?"

"Yeah, I don't know about that one," Sam says, replacing her hostility by matching Freddo's casual tone. "Ointment...seems like something you would need." She shrugs.

"Hmm..." Freddo nods as he takes this into consideration. Then, in the same instant, the flames return. "I just got a text from Jay Schimmens!" he yells angrily. "And it says, 'Hey Fredasmine! I'm totally voting for you, queer'." He glares at Sam expectantly.

But of course he isn't going to get an apology. It's _Sam_ after all. "Heh! Fredasmine! That name is going into the collection." She has quite the collection. "Wait, you mean 'football team' Jay Schimmens?" Her dangerous smirk takes over her happy expression. "Why are you mad? You've had a crush on him since, like, sixth grade."

Freddie heaves a fuming huff and starts, "I have NOT Sam! Get this through your thick skull! I. DO. NOT. LIKE. BOYS!" You'd think Sam would realize this by now. I mean seriously, with as many 'situations' I've found them in on my couch, I'd say Freddie has some pretty solid proof.

Diggy, picking out a few words he recognizes, chimes in from his perch on Godzilla's lasagna, "Rawt! Freddie like boys!"

"THAT'S IT!" Uh oh, Freddie snapped. He grabs the remote from Sam's hand and chucks it at the blue bird. Diggy swoops out of the way just in time. He glides over to Sam, landing on her shoulder, and hiding from Freddie in her hair.

Sam pats him soothingly, glaring at the still fuming Freddie. "Go get my remote."

Hey, it's my remote.

"Sam! You...YOU-,"

"I...I? You are just _so_ articulate, dork."

"AHH!" Freddie throws his arms up in frustration. "Sam, I have the right mind to just leave one of these days."

"Go. No one is stopping you." Diggy peaks out from behind the curtains of blonde hair and 'pop's his agreement.

Freddie is absolutely livid now. Maybe I should do something...but I'm _so_ lazy. He stands up from the couch and points an accusing finger down at Sam. "No, I mean leave _you_ one of these days!"

Sam is a bit taken aback. Yes, Sam Puckett doesn't have a ready snide remark this time. It's earth-shattering. Maybe she can see the complete seriousness in Freddie's eyes. Wait. He can't be serious. There's no way. Freddie would never break up with Sam. That...that...Ah, what am I saying? They are constantly trying to one up each other, and constantly at the other's throat. Not to mention the physical abuse (Sam's doing, of course. And Freddie could never take this to court. I mean, the judge would never believe Fred if he saw the small blonde girl sitting on my couch right now). Anyhoo, I guess it could happen. Quite easily, in fact...But, it's just. I don't know. Rock and Pink Mystery. Nobody else would put up with either of them. Hmm...maybe that's why they have held it together for this long. Or, maybe it's because they are too darn stubborn to give up on each other.

Sam regains her poise and eyes Freddie for a minute. After she is finished scrutinizing the angry, boyishly handsome, tech producer, she crosses one leg over the other and sets her folded hands on her knee. She looks up at Freddie with a sort of mocking expectance. "Okay, go for it. Break up with me." Freddie hesitates. "It's alright. Come on," Sam says soothingly. "You could start with 'it's not you, it's me'. Gah, do I have to hold your hand through _everything_, Benson?" She has this sure smirk on her face, like she's got Freddie right where she wants him. Too bad Fred doesn't realize this.

Freddo squares his shoulders and glares down at her. "Well, it _isn't_ me. And it _is_ you. So that one won't work." Sam bats her eyelids and hums patiently as she waits for Freddie to continue. Freddie, meanwhile, is doing some major hesitating and quick thinking. He looks like he's got a battle going on in his mind. It's silly. Then he finally comes to a decision. He spins around, as if to restart the scene, and starts, "Sam, you are an unsophisticated, psychotic, brute who has no feelings and no manners, and this thing between us obviously isn't working out, so-,"

Sam is just raising her eyebrows where necessary, and nodding in agreement at a few things with this sarcastic expression the whole time. Freddie's eyebrows furrow in concentration as he tries to continue. "So...so...uh, we should probably-,"

Sam finally loses her patience. It was bound to happen soon. That was like a whole minute without interruptions from her. "Damn it, Freddork. You have to make things so freaking awkward." She sighs, rather exasperated. "Would you just get to the part where your dorkish head comes to its senses, and you tell me you love me, and you make me a sammich?"

Diggy takes off from Sam's shoulder as Freddie pulls her up into a bear hug. Sam allows him access to her seemingly huggable self for a moment before she wheezes, "Okay. Breathing would be nice. Let go, Dorkyboy!" Freddie releases her and swoops down to kiss her but she turns away. Wow. Thank my lucky stars.

"What?" Freddo asks.

"Hey, you're the one who almost broke up with me just now." Sam gives him a stern look. "You think that is going to go unpunished?"

Freddie's face falls. "I guess not."

Sam sighs and clicks her tongue as she looks him up and down. "Hmm..." She crosses her arms and shifts her weight. "Go make me a sammich, and we'll call it even."

Freddie exhales and nods accordingly. He heads off to the kitchen then seems to remember something, and looks over his shoulder at the angry blonde. "Oh, and I love you, Sam."

Sam plops back down on the couch. "Yeah, yeah, we know." But her smirks is looking a bit more like a smile at this moment.

Okay, I'm going to take a nap on my table now. So...yeah. Hope I can dream of a simpler time, back when I had access to my own couch, and the remote control that I purchased was considered mine, and Freddie wasn't telling Sam he loved her. Gah, the stuff that I witness in my living room. I need some serious therapy, and I'm not even the crazy one!...Well I'm not.

----------------------------------------

I am going to cut down my usual talk of my affairs today. Actually, I'm not really. It's just that the usual talk of my affairs is kind of beginning to revolve around Sam and Freddie. I mean, they are living at my house even more now that it's summer. I don't think either of them has been home in days. Weeks, actually. All they do is sit and argue or scheme or make out or whatever else they do on my couch. And occasional physical violence on MMA Sundays. If their constant presence isn't enough, they are all my girlfriend wants to talk about! I took Mandy out the other night, and she's been visiting her aunt in England, so she hasn't been around for awhile. When she found out about Sam and Freddo (we walked in on a 'situation' on my couch. Like I was actually going to tell her about them! It pains me enough to talk about it with you) she was all gushy and excited. And mainly 'I told you so'-ish. It was so annoying. But I still love being around her, even if our conversations tend to turn toward my couch's usual inhabitants. Then, to add to the list of reasons Sam and Freddie are becoming a big part of my daily life, Carly has gotten used to the fact that they are together. She doesn't try to break up their fights (or anything else for that matter) anymore. So, unless I get some friends who aren't teenage kids, I am going to just have to get used to the fact that Sam and Fred are a usual part of my routine.

Anyways, like I just said, they have been over here everyday since school let out. So I'm a bit surprised to come out of my room to find Sam alone on the couch, and no Freddie in sight. And I am even more surprised to find that Sam is not eating or watching TV. In fact, she's crying.

Oh no. Oh dear God. The world is going to end. Sam Puckette is crying.

Why is she crying? Who did this to her? Was it Freddie? No...I mean, _Freddie_. Honestly, what could he ever do to hurt her? But who else besides for Freddie could ever make her cry? It has to be Freddie. But Freddie my little bro/neighbor kid or not, there better be no guy making Sam cry. If he did something to Sam, he's gonna hear from me. Sorry, didn't mean to go all 'big brother mode' on you guys.

Uh, so...I should probably do something along the lines of comfort. Umm...maybe I should heat up some leftover ham.

I walk timidly into the living room. "Uh, hey Sam. What's, er, wrong?" Yeah, this is not going to be fun. For anyone.

She sniffles a bit as she lifts her face from her hands, surprised and angry to find someone else in the room. She doesn't say anything. She only glares.

"Er...did Freddie do something to you?"

Through her tears she scoffs. "Are you kidding me? Fweddie Weddie? What's he gonna do?" She sniffs again as she swipes her forearm over her wet eyes.

Okay, true true. I don't know if it's possible for Fweddo to make Sam cry. Hmm...Okay, I'm really lost here. Maybe I should go get Carly...who is currently in the shower. So she'll be down for the count at least another hour or two. Yeah, it's unnatural I know. So..."Would you like me to go get Fweddie?"

She struggles to hold back a few sobs, then replies with a short nod. So I quickly skip across the hall and enter 8D. Everything is so _clean_. Oh my gosh, they have plastic sheets over the furniture. The air smells like cleaning chemicals. I feel so...so...sterile. It's creepy. Fweddie is sitting on a counter with his sleeves rolled up. His mom is standing in front of him, readying a giant syringe. Yikes. I came to claim our little Freddo at the right time.

"We'll be just a minute, Mrs. B." I grab Fred by the arm and 'shush' his questioning as I drag him across the hall. He stops struggling when he sees Sam.

"Oh, Sam...what's wrong?" He drops next to her on the couch immediately, taking her hands in his.

She looks down for a minute, trying to fight back her tears. She sniffs a few times and holds down a sob as she glances up at Freddie. Her voice is shaky and throaty as she says, "Cliff is-," 'sniff', "-Cliff is retiring."

Freddie's face falls. "Oh no, Sam, I'm sorry." He wraps his arms around her and lets her sob into his shoulder.

Wait. Cliff. Cliff? Like large, tattooed, sweaty, MMA Cliff? You've got to be kidding me.

Freddie sets his palm on the back of her head as he rocks her gently. "Sam, it's gonna be alright. I mean, you've still got Gibson." He places a soft kiss on her forehead. "They say he might win the title next year, and you said he was going to be big the first time you saw him fight. You called that," Freddie says in an attempt to take her mind off her longtime favorite, large, sweaty man.

Hmm...Freddie knows stuff about MMA? I guess he's been learning from MMA Sunday. That's weird, 'cause he's usually in a headlock most of that day. This is so strange. Freddie sitting her holding Sam and rocking her as she cries...as opposed to Sam and her sleeper hold ways. It's seriously a wonder that they are still together. Like I said before, they are both too flippin' stubborn to give up on the other.

Sam sniffs again then pulls away from Freddie's hold and looks up at him. "Yeah?"

"Sure! Gibson will be great, maybe better than Cliff. And you called that his rookie year!"

Are you serious? All this because some MMA fighter is retiring. Freakin' weird. My couch's usual inhabitants...freakin' weird.

Sam lets out a weak whimper then leans back into Freddie. "I feel like such a pansy-ass-nub." Pansy-ass-nub. Creative.

Freddie hugs her tightly as he rocks her soothingly. "No, Sam! You're fine. This is a big deal." Uh, no it's not, but what-evs. Maybe it is a big deal in the zone. Or in Whipped City, where Fred presides as mayor.

'Sniff', "Thanks, dork." Then she pulls away again and glares up at him, clutching his shoulders menacingly. "You better not tell anybody about this!"

Freddie smiles as he gently forces her down again. "Of course not. No one will ever know that Sam Puckett, God forbid, cried," Fred laughs. Um...I'm standing right here guys! I will know! Urgh. Whatever. I gave up on that a long time ago.

I sigh and then remember Mrs. B, who I see is now standing in the hall holding a giant syringe. And she looks pissed. Not a good combination.

"Hey, Mrs. B, uh, can I help you?"

"Where's Freddie?" She doesn't wait for me to answer, she just pushes past me to get a veiw of the oblivious pair on the couch. Her eyes bulge in surprise at the sight. "What?"

I try to shove her back out in the hallway without being to obvious about it. Uh, nonchalant shoving looks funny. This mainly consists of me pretending to tie my shoe and butting into her. Once we are out in the hall again, I say, "Look, Cliff retired from MMA. So Sam's a bit torn up."

Mrs. B shakes her head. "The things that girl holds dear to her heart! It's so wrong." She eyes me for a moment. "Why does Freddie care? I don't allow him to watch _Mixed Martial Arts_." She says the last three words like they have a bad taste or something.

"I don't know. I really don't know...That's just Sam and Freddie, I guess."

Mrs. B sighs then tries to push her way back into my apartment. And I'm not going to be able to keep her out without things getting awkward. So I put my hands at my side and let her pass just in time to see Freddie scoop up the unusually helpless Sam and carry her up to Carly's room (where she'd be more comfortable in this state) whispering soothing assurances about MMA world with every step. I risk a glance at Mrs. B. Her face slowly softens and her anger is replaced by pride. "Hmm...maybe your right. That's just Sam and Freddie." She sighs then turns back to the hall. "I guess if she really means something to Freddie, I can at least try to put up with her." Mrs. B smiles and gives me a curt nod before gripping her syringe and heading over to 8D. "And her trans fat eating habits," she adds before disappearing behind her door.

I skip back into my living room. Hmm...the couch is empty....

Ah, never mind. I can't sit on my flippin' couch. There's an indention in the middle where Sam and Fred were just sitting. Not to mention the disgusting ketchup stains, which make me want to gag. One time I drank an entire bottle of ketchup because one of those magical, all-telling, eight ball type things (mine was a meatball actually) told me to. So now I can't stand the sight of ketchup. And this, of course, causes Sam to eat it way more than she should. She really hates people.

I sigh and make my way to my kitchen table, which is quickly becoming my favorite napping spot.

-------------------------------------------------------

"SAM!"

Sam comes rushing down the stairs with a huge grin on her face. Freddie noisily storms after her. Sam dodges agiley around the room before ducking under the giant Godzilla's legs and disappearing behind him. Freddie follows after her, but he's quite a bit larger, and has a bit more trouble than Sam with this. In fact, he gets stuck in between Godzilla's legs. Sam reappears from behind Godzilla, smirking happily. Freddie struggles to release himself. He dove headfirst into the position he's in now, so Sam can't resist kicking his butt once, then twice. Then she waltzes into the kitchen.

"What'cha makin?" she asks Carly and me.

"Marshmallow pizza," Carly says skeptically.

"Hey! It might be good, Carly!"

Sam shrugs. "Don't worry Spence, I'll eat it."

I laugh. "Yeah, I wasn't worried."

Freddie lets out a rough grunt as he finally frees himself out from under Godzilla. He turns menacingly on Sam. He frightens me, and I jump a bit, sending my handful of marshmallows everywhere.

"Sam! You have to pay for a new laptop," he screams. Oh, yeah. They were doing iCarly earlier and Sam 'accidentally' (yeah right) spilled her Pepi Cola all over his computer.

"Yeah, 'cause I totally have a thousand bucks lying around." She shoves past Freddie to the couch. "Good one, Benson."

Freddie, still red-faced, follows after her. He drops to the couch next to her and yells, "Try _three_ thousand, Sam!" I don't know why they always sit on the couch before they really get into it. Uh, habit, I guess. "Speaking of which," Fred continues angrily. "I can't find my wallet anywhere."

Sam sighs then reaches her hand into the back pocket of her jeans. "Here," she says, tossing the brown leather wallet into his lap.

He checks inside. "There was a fifty in here."

"Nuh uh," Sam says, picking up the remote. Diggy lands on the back of the couch and inches back and forth across it as he watches the two fight.

"Yes! There was! And now you just cost me three thousand dollars! I saved up for that laptop all summer!"

Sam ignores him and clicks on the TV. He huffs angrily then rips the remote out of her hand. "Are you really going to try that, Benson? I've been eating Fat Cakes all day, and I'm ready to go." She pounds her fist into her palm for emphasis. Carly and I exchange concerned glances as we continue the pizza-making. You know what? I think I miss the spray bottle.

"I don't want to fight you, Sam. Gah, you're so frickin' aggressive!"

"Ah, ah_, ahh_, Dorkface. You can't use such foul language," she says, going for the remote again.

Freddie pulls it away and shouts, "I said _frickin_!"

"Oh, you know what it implies," Sam smirks. "And I bet mama Crazy wouldn't be too thrilled to hear her well-tempered little man using that word, Fredqueer!"

"Stop calling me names!"

"STOP BEING SUCH A QUEER, THEN MAYBE I WILL!"

Freddie can't keep the hurt out of his face. "Well...you..YOU-,"

"W-wh-wha-what was that, Sergeant Stutter?"

Freddie shoots up from the couch and points an accusing finger at her. "That's it Sam! WE ARE DONE!" And with that, he heads for the door and slams it shut behind him.

Sam watches after him in disbelief for minute as things slowly sink in. Then she glances over at Carly and me with an unreadable expression. She gets up, saluting, "Alright, well-," her voice is a bit throaty. "I'm going home."

Sam is going home? She never goes home. Uh oh. This is big.

* * *

**Okay, sorry if the ending is a bit rushed. I'm running late. So review...someone asked how many more I'm having and I'm going to say roughly five. I think.  
Heh, I'm not gonna lie. 'Sergeant Stutter' is a name my older brother and I call our other brother because he has a bit of a speech problem. Man, we're going to hell. **

**Okay, thanks guys. Sorry if you didn't like the ending of this chapter. It just needed to happen. Kay, thanks. Peace!  
**


	11. Rebound's off my couch

**Yeah, sorry that chapter 10 has actually been chapter 8 for awhile now. I must have done that on accident. So sorry if that caused any of you any inconvenience and thank you _terri_ for pointing it out...uh, I changed it, but I don't know how long it takes to actually go into effect. So, again, sorry. **

**And sorry about all of the errors in the last chapter. I went back and fixed 'em after practice, and I was hoping that nobody had really read it yet, but there were like already a few hundred views on it, so, yeah. Chances are that you were one of those people and you noticed the massive amount of errors. I will try not to let that happen again. I just hadn't updated in awhile at that point and I was anxious to get the next installment out, but I was running late for school. My bad. Oh, and thanks for all of the feedback from the last chapter. I'm sorry about the cliffy, haha. **

**Ages: eighteen...end of senior year, or summer after.** **Before college.** **Maybe a month or two after the break up.**

* * *

Ahh, bwawa, abb an ando agonabbabba, joootiszoo, bazcaa…

No, that's not Pig Latin. I just don't know how to express my feelings right now.

You know what? This good time we are having right now, it reminds me of this rule I came up with for awkward situations. Want to hear it? Wait! Stop! I don't want to hear your answer, because I'm telling you anyways. Okay, so, say you find yourself in an awkward situation. Could be that you ask a woman when the baby is due, and find out that she is in fact not pregnant. Or when a nine year old girl falls in love with you, (that's the problem with being an attractive, subconsciously alluring man. All women, of all ages, are very aware of you. You wouldn't understand) and you have to let her down easy 'cause she is your girlfriend's niece. Or when you honk at the car in front of you in the passing lane that's going, like, twenty under the speed limit, and the driver pulls over and gets out and you see that he is a giant, tattooed, MMA-looking man. Or even worse, he's not a he, and is some babe. Yeah, if you haven't already guessed it, these have all happened to me at some point.

Anyhoo, in order to avoid a situation that is taking a turn for the awkward state, simply sing the words, 'Ope bo doe doe!' I'm serious. 'Ope-bo-doe-doe' (insert sing-songy voice here). Yeah, it's like my newly developed secret weapon. That's why things never get awkward around me anymore…for the most part. Seriously!

Well, maybe you are wondering why and how I came up with this little anti-awkward phrase. Welp, I really needed one after with the way Sam and Freddie are acting at this point in my couch tales. There for awhile after they broke up, they just avoided. But with having their best friend being mutual, and the web show and everything, they were around each other sometime. And if things weren't hostile and filled with angry threats, or backed with intentions of causing jealousy, they were just awkward.

So Sam marches into my living room, clutching a hammer. Uh…

"Sam, um, I don't know where you got that, or why you have it, but could you please put it down." Yeah, she is going through this really aggressive stage these days. Uh…did I say _stage_? Hmm…

She sighs, and drops the hammer onto the counter by the computer. "It's alright, I was just fixing this floorboard in the studio, 'cause Freddie is too much of an un-manish pansy to do it himself."

"Now Sam, just because you are angry at Freddie, doesn't mean-,"

"Gah, I'm NOT angry at him!" she screams defensively. I am about to assure her that I didn't mean to imply what I said (er..?), but she is still going. "I couldn't care less that we never see each other anymore, or that we never talk, or that he went out with Brittney Wieners yesterday!" Hmm…I don't remember asking her for the play by play of her feelings about Fred at this time, but it's whatever. It's Sam. She does what she feels like doing at the time she is feeling like doing it.

"Wieners?" I ask, unlatching Diggy's cage. "Seriously?"

This catches Sam a bit off guard, but she is suddenly smiling as opposed to the livid, far off, glare she wore a moment ago. "I know! Wieners!" She smirks to herself as she crosses her arms and leans against the counter. She begins stroking Diggy absently as she muses, "The possibilities for name-calling…phenomenal."

"Not to mention the pun," I add joyfully. Then I realize, as Sam shoots me this sly expression, that I may be 'almost conniving' with Sam. That's a scary thought. I mean, I am indirectly siding with Sam here. Uh, well not really. I am not siding with either of them, ever. But Sam seems to think I've joined her because she is now slowly nodding at me as if in acceptance or something. "Uh, Sam, I'm not gonna try to ruin this for Freddie or anything. He has the right to date. I mean, it's been a few months since you two-," Oops. Carly says I'm not supposed to mention that around either of them.

Sam shrugs it off though, and lets Diggy ride on her shoulder as she makes her way to the couch. She plops down and grabs her remote. Er, _my_ remote. Eh...what's the use?

So right now I should probably make it clear where I stand on this whole thing. I mean, I'm sure your more curious to see where Sam and Freddie stand, but it's my story, so live with it. You should be happy I'm sharing with you, 'cause Sam and Freddie would never tell you this story. They need a third party person (me!) to be able to pick out what's special about the couch scene interactions, because they are pretty much used to them to the point where they can't even tell that they are special. I guess. Oh, I'm so insightful! I have been watching a lot of chick flicks recently. Uh, because of Mandy, that is.

So, a few days later, Freddie walks into my apartment. "Hey Spence." He pauses as he takes in my current position. "Uh, why are you sitting on the coffee table? The couch is open."

"Yeah, but...I don't know." I should tell him that it's where he and Sam are supposed to be sitting right now. They should be sitting there arguing, or head locking, or conniving, or even making out...no. Not the last one. But you get my drift.

"Where's Carly?" he asks. "We need to get going on rehearsal pretty soon."

"She is going to be here in a few minutes," I tell him as I lay back down on the table. "Uh, Sam is upstairs, if you guys want to get started."

Freddie looks at the stairs for a moment, then turns back to me with a brief down cast expression. "Naw, uh, she is probably sleeping or something. I don't want to wake her up."

So maybe you have gathered that Sam and Freddie don't really interact with each other outside of iCarly or just Carly in general. And Carly is not having a fun time playing monkey-in-the-middle between the two. I love that game...but that's not my point. Carly doesn't really like it too much though. But, now that I have finally come to accept Zach as I kind of permanent part of Carly's life (they are going to the same college! Gah, there's just no getting around it now), she is spending a lot of time with him now, and not playing bridge between her two fighting best friends.

Anyways, I was going to tell you something semi-important...hmm...Oh yes! You want to know where I stand in the current situation of Sam and Freddie's separation. And if not, you're going to hear it anyhoo. Well, I am totally stoked out of my mind! I mean, they don't sit on my couch anymore! It's awesome.

But, I guess I kind of miss them on my couch. The living room scene just isn't the same when only one of them is occupying my memory-filled couch.

Hey! They don't make out anymore, and they don't ignore me 'cause they are never together long enough to access the zone! Freddie has retired from his posistion as mayor of Whipped City. He hasn't made Sam a sandwich in a month!

But, they aren't the same without each other. Sam is...just, empty. I mean she is still aggressive and cocky and angry, but, the other day, she turned down ham. Ham! She said her stomach hurt. And, coincidentally, that was the last day Sam and Freddie really talked, and only to confirm that they were over.

And it's awesome! Sam is not eating, like, anything these days. And I am saving hundreds of dollars a month. I bought a unicycle.

But, Freddie just isn't the same, nerdy, awkward, lovable kid anymore. I mean, he's still cute and lovable and all (do you notice that I always talk about Freddo as if he is the family pet or something? Hmm...), but he's just not the same. It's like when he has no one to boss him around, and no one to be pissed off at, he doesn't know what to do with himself. So he is always cooped up in his room, trying to shut off everything else with immense studying, and piles of college applications, and obsessively updating the iCarly website. And now, he has this Brittney girl to take his mind off things. Off his pain. His pain for missing...pain.

And Sam has kind of been messing around with this biker dude names Spike, who is pretty cool and has a lot in common with Sam. Good for her. And you know what? Good for Freddie. We had another man-talk the other day, and I told him that he should definitely move on. I mean, it's unhealthy to be buckled down with the same girl (okay, you may be thinking, 'he's one to talk! He's still dating Mandy', but it's like this unwritten rule for us older brothers that we can shove nonsense into the heads of the kiddos as long as it makes us sound older and cooler).

But, as I was telling him this, I couldn't help but think that the way Sam had him buckled down is just a sign pointing to the fact that they were right for each other. I mean, after all of the crap she put him through, after all of the times Freddie had to prove his devotion to Sam, and he still wanted her. And all of the times Sam questioned herself about why the in the hell she wanted to be with the dork, and in the end, she couldn't let him go. And neither could he.

Well, they did actually let go. So, I guess none of the previous counts. And you know, with the lack of yelling, I'm enjoying the silence I find my house in these days. They don't come around that often in fear that the other might be there, so I find myself talking to Diggy, and my coffee table, and Godzilla a lot more.

But, if you really think about it, the reason that they don't some around as much anymore might not be just to avoid awkward situations. Maybe, and this is a shot in the dark, but maybe it's because they still have feelings for each other. Feelings that might resurface at the sight of one another. It's...it's sad, but kind of sweet all the same. But mostly tragic. Aw.

Wait! What am I saying? Gah, I am a giant woman. Well...don't dwell on that thought too long. Urgh. I just called Sam and Freddie _sweet_. You know those times where something happens, and you gag a little in your mouth, and it's real gross, but you just have to tell the person standing next to you that you did it? Yeah, this is not one of those times. I just completely threw up, like, everywhere.

So, that is where I stand, I guess. Uh...I just went back and read those last few thoughts, and I am just as confused as you are. So...um...well, we'll just say that I don't really care about Sam and Freddo's strange relationship and its problems.

-----------------------------------------------

Hey guys! I'm super excited! Mandy is coming over tonight, and she is bringing pizza, and movies, and herself! It's gonna be a grand ol' time.

Uh oh. I just got a text from Carly (she is right upstairs! Kids and technology) that says Sam is coming over for dinner. I mean, this is fine. I'm just glad that Sam has recently regained her large appetite. But, there's one minor problem. I invited Freddie to bring his girlfriend over so we could meet her!

Yeah, this is not going to be fun. Even with pizza and chick flicks.

I quickly text Carly back and tell her that Sam can't come over, but it's too late. Sam just walked through the door. Oh boy...

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?" she asks, plopping down on the couch.

"Umm...you have to go home." Wow, good one Spencer! That'll totally work! Gah...

Sam scoffs. "Psst, yeah _okay_."

"Uh, Freddie is coming," I inform her timidly. "And, he's bringing Wiener--I mean, Brittney!"

Sam can't help but to smile at my slip up. Then the dangerous wheels in her head begin to turn. "Wieners is coming, ay?"

I nod guiltily. What did I just unleash?

A slow smirks spread across Sam's face. It's the conniving smirk. Yikes. I feel bad for whoever is on her mind at this time. My thoughts of possibly trying to reason with her before she tries anything too drastic are cut off by a knock at the door. "Hey! It's me! Open up!"

Sam answers the door and lets Mandy in. She is probably acting so welcoming right now because Mandy is carrying five pizzas. "Hey Mandy! Can I help you with those?"

Mandy dodges around Sam as she says, "Naw, Sam. Thanks, but I want them to at least make it to the kitchen."

Sam shrugs as she drops to the couch. "Okay, fair enough." Mandy makes her way into the kitchen and sets the pizzas on the table. Mmm...they smell so...pizza-y. She rises up on her tip toes and kisses me briefly. And Mandy smells so...Mandy-y.

"Could you guys settle it down out there?" Sam asks loudly.

I turn toward the couch and say, "Oh come on! Like you and Freddie never--Ow!" Mandy kicks me mid sentence. Oh yeah, according to the ladies in my life, (Mandy, Carls, and yes, grocery store lady) I'm not supposed to mention their previous 'thing' around Sam and Fred. Come on! It's their own fault.

Sam either didn't hear what I said, or she is choosing to ignore it. Maybe. I don't know...she looks a bit glum as she clicks violently at the remote. Mandy gives me this 'look what you did' look. So I give her this 'I did not! It's seriously not my fault that they ripped each other's hearts out and now I have to filter almost everything I say so I don't cause either of them the least bit of pain, even though they deserve it. They are the ones who did this to each other! And it's not fair that I can't even talk in Pig Latin anymore because there is a possibility that this might bring up memories for them!' So Mandy gives me this, 'Pig Latin isn't that important' look followed by 'Grow up!' Wow, she could seriously read that look I just gave her. Man! I was hoping I would lose her this time! But she is always able to keep up with me. It's so annoying. Yet, it is also one of the reasons I am going to ask her to marry me. Yeah...I can't help myself. As obnoxious as her one-upping is, she always gives me that little lopsided smile when she does it. Like right now. I turn away from her with difficulty as I begin setting out dishes.

Carly just came down, and we are setting out the plates and drinks. There's a knock at the door. "Sam? Could you get that?"

"Nope," she says.

Mandy sighs as she gives me the 'you know who that is, don't you?' look. She sets down a stack of cups and skips to the door, allowing Freddie in. He's pulling this short brown haired girl by the hand along behind him. "Hey, Mandy," he says, hugging her and smiling over her shoulder at me and Carls. "This is Britt-,"

His eyes fall on Sam, who is paying no attention to him right now. But I notice that the knuckles on her hand that's gripping the remote are rather white in color at this time.

"-ney," he continues, pulling Brittney inside, past the couch, and into the kitchen.

I nod curtly to her and shake her extended hand. "'Sup? I'm Spence. And I completely understand if you have the random urge to leave Freddie now that you have met me. It's normal." Freddie sighs, Brittney laughs (and blushes. Score for me!), and Mandy flicks my nose playfully-ish. I glance at Carly, who is glancing at Sam, who is desperately trying to remain oblivious to her surroundings.

She glares at the TV. "Come on Gibson! Pull it together, man!"

Freddie can't help himself and he instinctively looks over to the aggressive blonde. He gulps. "Uh oh. It's MMA Sunday, isn't it?"

Carly nods gravely and Mandy smiles to herself as she sets out the pizzas. I watch Brittney, who looks a bit confused. "MMA? What's that?"

Freddie looks really surprised. "MMA?" he asks, his voice rising slightly. "Oh come on Britt! MMA! Mixed martial arts, you know?" I don't know why Fred is surprised she doesn't know this. Well...I guess he has been around Sam quite a bit the last few years. He probably thinks all girls should be inot MMA. Or at least his girl.

Brittney nods in realization. "Oh, yeah, sure. My dad used to watch it all the time." Brittney leans back against the counter as she grows a bit more comfortable with the scene. "He stopped following it when some guy name, like, _Cliff_ or something retired. Dad was pretty torn up. It was funny." She shrugs as she silently gives Mandy a hand with the pizzas.

Freddie turns a bit pale. He struggles, then finally gives in, and glances back at Sam. She looks back at him, and they have some silent exchange (out of habit more than anything). "Yeah," Freddie agrees. "That was a sad day for all of us." Though he doesn't look like he finds his own memory of this day as funny as Brittney. Sam swallows hard twice then turns up the TV.

"Alright, pizza time!" Mandy announces. Diggy takes off from his favorite perch on Godzilla's lasagna and dives into the pizza Brittney is about to take a slice from. She jumps back, startled, and clutches Freddie's shoulder.

"Sam!" Freddie yells instinctively. He looks like he regrets that outburst now, but he's caught Sam's attention. And she looks like she is expecting him to finish. "Your eating habits...they rubbed off on Diggy too!" Freddie lifts the tomato sauce-covered bird from the pizza. "Learn to control yourself around him! He is easily influenced!" After Freddie finishes, he looks a bit more satisfied. Sam just glares back at him and crosses her arms.

Brittney looks back and forth between the two, defiantly glaring, couch sitters and laughs. "I sense some underlying tension here," she says. We all slowly realize that this is an attempt at humor, and laugh politely. But honestly, it's not that funny, 'cause it's the truth. Freddie sighs as he breaks his stare down with Sam, and he smiles down at Brittney. Lucky for him, she's new in school, and knows nothing of his past with Sam (or she probably wouldn't be so bubbly and uppity about this whole situation). And I bet he is planning to keep her in the dark about it too. I hope Sam brings it up. Not that I want to ruin things for Freddie and Brittney...I don't think so at least.

Seriously, she doesn't watch MMA? She just doesn't seem like Freddie's type of girl. Or maybe she is too much Freddie's ideal girl. I mean, Freddie kind of needs someone who's not right for him. He's so babied sometimes, he really needs someone to toughen him up a bit. He needs someone who understands him, but still challenges him. Freddie needs a girl who can keep him on his toes. A girl who is just as stubborn as him. Freddie needs Sam. So...I'm going to come to a conclusion here about Brittney. Uh, REBOUND!

Freddie walks over to the sink and carefully washes Diggy off. Diggy is struggling the whole time, yelling mean and personal things about Freddie. Freddie flicks him on the head after,"Rawt! Freddie is a girly cow!" Sam can't help but smile in fond remembrance. Freddie looks as though he is briefly contemplating whether or not he should flick Sam's head. He watches Brittney as she makes her way to the couch, and decides against it. Sam is looking angry enough at this moment.

"What's with the bird?" she asks Sam as she sits down. Her attempt at small talk goes ignored. "Uh, whose bird is that?" she tries again, thinking Sam may not have heard her. I guess Brittney is pretty determined to get along with all of Freddie's family...even the aggressive and rude family. Er, friends...I guess...family. What-evs. We might as well be.

Sam tears her eyes away from the fight with difficulty, and looks lazily at Brittney. "He's mine." _Excuse_ me? Yours? Ah, of course he is. Like everything else I own. "I taught him all of those lovely Freddie-isms." She looks back at Freddie with a sneer. Freddie catches her eye and looks away quickly. Probably because he's smiling right now. Geeze...if we could just leave them alone for, like, ten seconds...

He is still trying to wash off Diggy. He hates the bird, but he can't help himself for caring for Dig. And Dig repays him with snide remarks and occasional nips at the hand. Whoa! Deja Vu! You too? Crazy...

So Diggy is pretty much going through every phrase he knows at the moment, as he is struggling to free himself from Freddie's helping hands. "Rawt! Freddie is a dork! Raawt!"

Brittney giggles as Sam smirks saying, "And he only repeats the truth."

Freddie curses the bird under his breath for a moment as he tries to dry Dig with a towel. Diggy, out of desperation to be free, reaches a bit further back into his memory for a random outburst that might hit home. "Raawt! Freddie loves Sam! Raaaawt!" Freddie loses his grip, and Diggy takes off for the protection of Sam. He lands hurriedly on her shoulder and 'pop's a few threats at the approaching Freddie.

"What did the bird just say?" Brittney asks.

I look over to Mandy in hopes to exchange a concerned look. But Mandy is absolutely beaming. And Carly has this little smile playing at the corner of her lips. Should I be smiling? The ladies in my life seem to think so.

Alright, cat's out of the bag. Oh well, Brittney was never going to last long here anyways. She doesn't watch MMA and she didn't even finish her first piece of pizza. We prefer the aggressive, constantly eating girls around here. Or at least the one's who take abnormally long showers.

Freddie runs his fingers through his hair as he tries to think of the proper way to explain this to Brittney. Awkward...I can't help myself. I burst out with my secret weapon, "Ope bo doe doe!" and release a bit of the awkward tension. Well, maybe I didn't, but Brittney has forgotten about the situation at hand for a moment and is staring at me. Yes, I'm a hero.

But I guess she hasn't completely forgotten about the 'truth-telling' bird claiming that her boyfriend loves another girl. And that is indeed how the sad life a rebound goes, my friends.

"Where did the bird hear that?" Brittney presses.

Freddie sighs then squares his shoulders and looks down at her. "Well, uh, Sam and I used to kind of, uh, be together." He glances at Sam for approval of this incredibly blunt statement.

Sam just shrugs and hisses, "Don't look at me. You're the one who decided to be an idiot and bring the wiener over here-,"

"Don't call her 'the wiener'," Freddie orders.

"It's her name!"

"You're making fun of it!"

"How can I NOT make fun of it?"

Freddie sighs. "Look, I know her last name is unfortunate, but-," Brittney scoffs loudly, and Freddie glances at her apologetically.

But Sam ignores both of them. She is determined to complete the thought she was trying to get at before Freddie interrupted her. "And at least I had enough sense not to bring Spike!"

Freddie stops his angry pacing for a moment, (thank God! He was just rearing up into 'rant mode') and looks down at Sam. "Spike? Who's Spike?"

Sam glares up at him. "A guy I've been seeing," she says, with a silent challenge.

Freddie mentally accepts the challenge. "Spike! _Spike_? You can't do better than a criminal, Sam?" He smirks triumphantly

Sam, in an attempt to wipe the smirk off his face, flings the remote at it. Luckily Freddie is able to duck out of the way. Dig squawks loudly at all the excitement. "He's NOT a criminal!" Sam yells. "Anymore," she says quietly. "He's got a Harley!"

Freddie looks like he is dying to retort right now. It's been awhile since they've had a good fight. But he looks a bit hesitant as he glances at Brittney, who is visibly annoyed. He watches her for a moment, then seems to come to a decision of sorts, and scoots her to the far side of the couch so he can take her place next to Sam. Brittney lets out a gasp, but is cut off by Freddie's, "Well, I don't approve Sam. Harleys are dangerous, and so are ex-cons."

Sam rolls her eyes. "Okay, thank you, Mama Benson. But I can take care of myself just fine."

Freddie laughs out loud, cutting off Brittney's attempt to get his attention. "Yeah right! I always have to come rescue you! I can't even count how many parties I've had to pick you up from 'cause your in danger or they get too wild. And it's me who always puts up with your shit on MMA Sundays. And ME who holds you and comforts you when you cry!" This might sound kind of sweet to you, but he's using this shrill, menacing, and threatening voice as he glares down at her.

She glares right back up at him. Britteny tries tugging on Freddie's sleeve, and Sam absentmindedly bats Brittney's hand away from him as she yells, "You are NOT supposed to bring that up, Benson!" Freddie is still angry, but he nods in silent agreement. Wow, even with everything they've been through the past month or so. It's easy to see where his loyalties still lie. Sam can see it too, but she dismisses it and continues, "_You_ who comforts me when I cry, ay?" She is absolutely livid now. "Then where have you been the past month, huh?" Her voice cracks on 'month'. She fails to tone down the hurt she's feeling as she says this.

Freddie's face falls as he realizes what her snarks imply she's been going through since he left. "Sam-,"

"FREDDIE?" Brittney asks, any signs of patience gone from her voice.

Mandy bites down on her bottom lip, then dashes into the living room, using the fact that Brittney wants to impress the hosts to her advantage. "Hey, Britt. I need your help in the kitchen for a moment," she says, leading the brown haired girl into the kitchen. Rebound's off my couch. Heh. Pun...never fails me.

Freddie and Sam don't seem to realize anything happening around them. Oh yes, back to the impenetrable zone. Hells yeah!

But not really. It's actually pretty annoying.

And awesome.

"Sam." Freddie says her name like it fills some sort of longing he's had. Sam sniffs once then crosses her arms. "Sam?" he tries again, now in a soft whisper.

Sam glares up at him, tears swelling up in her eyes (but she's not crying! That's reserved for MMA retirements only). "What, dork?" she hisses. Freddie sighs, but doesn't say anything. He only watches her. She sighs too as she realizes he's waiting on her. "I...I...You, arrgh!"

Freddie smiles, in spite of himself. "What was that, S-s-s-Sergeant Stutter?" He prods her shoulder playfully. Wow, they haven't spoken in weeks, and we are back to their natural fighting chemistry. Weird, but sweet...but still weird. I don't know what face I'm making as I watch them, but it must be interesting, because Carls and Mandy are both giggling at me. And Brittney is huffing and crossing her arms. Sorry, rebound. She doesn't know what she's up against with Sam. Poor kid.

"Hey! That's _my_ name that I call _you_!" Sam yells menacingly, but a sure smile is spreading across her face. "Gah, your a dork," she says joyfully. Man, back to the subconscious flirting, are we?

Freddie laughs, ignoring Brittney's angry, attention seeking, coughs. Man, I feel sorry for her. I'll buy her some ice cream later to make up for it.

"Yeah, yeah, and your a psychotic brute," Freddie says, smiling.

Sam nods. "Okay, I can deal with that." She smirks up at him, then suddenly has him in a headlock. MMA Sunday...it was bound to happen sometime.

"Tap out!" Sam yells, jerking Freddie to stop his struggling.

"Aw, they were doing so good there for a minute," Carly says.

"They're alright," Mandy muses. She takes a swig of Pepi Cola. "It's just Sam and Freddie affection, that's all." Then she cringes as she remembers Brittney's presence.

Freddie finally breaks loose from Sam's hold and restrains her against the side of the couch. He sighs as she kicks and struggles, then tightens his hold on his rapacious captive. His hands are gripping both of her shoulders in an attempt to hold her down, but she is still able to head butt him fiercely. He suffers one, then two blows before finally pressing his forehead against her, holding her in complete lock down.

"Just like the good ol' days," Carly laughs. Mandy and I join in for a moment, then we all grow silent as Brittney shifts her weight angrily.

Sam has stopped struggling, probably due to the closeness of Freddie's face, (again, ew) or the familiarity of the situation. She sighs. He does the same. And they just stay like that. Him holding her back against the arm of the couch, resting his forehead on hers, excited and aggravated and thrilled all mixed into one ear to ear grin. Sam doesn't look like she's minding it too much either.

"Freddie," she starts. And now I'm extremely uncomfortable, because she just called him 'Freddie'. That is seriously a first. Sam realizes they have stopped fighting, and begins kicking again.

"Yeah?" he asks, forcing down her most recent struggle. Wow, this feels a little too personal right now. You may be thinking I sound crazy, but you know as well as I do that their violent fighting might as well be intimacy!

"You're crushing me, dork," she wheezes.

"Oh, right." He sits up and releases her. They watch each other for a moment, Sam smirking, and Fred, well...I honestly don't know what face Freddie is making right now, 'cause I can only see the back of his head right now. But come on, you _must_ have some imagination! Here, maybe this will help you imagine his expression...Diggy has a good view of my couch's usual inhabitants right now, and he is 'popping' excitedly.

Then I see the back of Freddie lean in slowly, and Sam follows suit, looking a bit intoxicated.

"FREDDIE!" Brittney finally yells. She strides into the living room and glares at him accusingly.

"Er...it's uh, not, uh, what it looks like," he tries.

Sam smirks as she settles into the back of the couch. "Good one, Benson," she says, grabbing the remote. And she can't wipe the sure smile off her face.

Freddie glances at her and bites down hard on his lip so we won't smile either. He looks up timidly at his angry rebound. "Um, I'm really sorry, Brittney." And that's all he can manage before he finally gives in and smiles at Sam. Then he can't look away.

Brittney mouths soundlessly for a minute. Gah, poor kid. I think I will take her out for ice cream. Right now. "Hey, guys, uh, we are gonna go get some ice cream for dessert, alright?"

"Good idea," Mandy agrees quickly, nodding to the living room and the delicate state Sam and Freddie are in right now. The zone seems to be resurfacing as they sit in each other's presence for the first time in a few weeks.

So we grab our jackets and head for the door. Brittney is less concerned with being a pleasant guest right now as she just glares around at us. Luckily Carly grabs her by the wrist and pulls her out into the hall with us. I'm glad she did this. I would've, but I don't feel real comfortable with shoving teenage girls around. Laws and stuff. I don't know. But I _do_ know that Sam and Freddo need to be alone right now.

So, I guess I finally know where I stand in this whole thing.

I am the last one to pile out the door, and I accidentally glance up at the two kiddos on my couch. They can't take just watching each other anymore. Freddie slowly brings his hands to the sides of Sam's face. Sam smirks, then closes the distance between them. Freddie just kisses her tenderly, nothing face-suckish. And Sam actually lets him take his time. She doesn't get all hurried and aggressive with things liek she normally would. Well, for a moment. Then she shoves him back to the other side of the couch and continues on frenziedly. And Freddie is totally fine with it.

Wow, first time being together since the break up. I should've guessed. Okay, now I'm gagging as I shut the door behind me. Never mind, I have no idea where I stand on this. Except I think maybe they'll make it. Maybe they were right for each other all along. Maybe they actually _are_ in love. Maybe...if Sam is even capable of the feeling. Heh.

And, then again, maybe they are just two hormonal teens. I don't know! I'm just the older brother who happens to witness random couch scenes on occasion! Yeesh! You guys are so needy!

* * *

**Okay, yeah. Fun. So I got them back together right away, cuz I didn't want them breaking up and getting back together to turn into the main plot or anything. This thing doesn't really have a main plot...just random scene that will kind of tell Sam and Freddie's story. So this really isn't the climax or anything. And, just to be clear, they were apart for about a month (maybe a bit more) and this is the first time they've been together since then. **

**So, yeah, thanks guys. Reveiw and stuff. Alrighty, I think there will be 4 or 5 or maybe 3 more. Not exactly sure yet. It depends...on stuff. I don't know. Thanks again. Peace! **


	12. More struggles on my couch

**Alright, I know exactly how I'm ending it. Thanks for your suggestions guys, it's nice to know where the viewers think the story should end. Cuz that's what this is all about really...what the viewers think and stuff. But I improved my original ending, and I'm gonna stick with it. Actually, some of you suggested I end it where I had originally planned, so this just confirms things...yeah...okay, blah, blah, blah...Just keep reading. **

**Ages: Eh, twenty? Ninteen maybe. They've been in college for a about year.  
**

* * *

Bonjour.

So, guess what? Wait, what? Yeah, you're right. I asked Mandy to marry me. How are you right? Why do you always do that? Maaah…you know what? I'm just going to ignore it. Hmph.

But, yes, I asked her to marry me. It was a few months ago one night when we were just driving around town, you know, having a good ol' time. A good ol' Mandy-Spencer time where she one-ups me over and over and makes fun of my latest sculpture (which at the time, I think it was an irritated hippopotamus). But, I still go out of my way to make her laugh and smile and do all her quirky little things that she does. Yeah…maybe I should ask Freddie if there is room in Whipped City. Gah. Anyhoo, I took her up to the water tower where we had our second date, and flew kites, and got chased by the cops. Yeah, I thought the place had a bit of sentimental value to it. So, I asked her up there. And she was all excited and squealy. Yeah, she teases me, but she's totally just as head over heals as I am. What can I say? I'm so very charming.

Oh, and Zach, Carly's dude thingy, came over to my house to talk to me. Looks like HE is ready to pop the question too. Copy cat. Oh well, free cheese from his rich daddy with the huge cheese factories. Yeah, he and Carly went to the same college and everything, and they never fight and never do much of anything but act like love-struck puppies around each other, so there was really no getting around it. And I like to say that I only tolerate Zach because of the cheese bonus, but I actually think he and Carly are, uh, meant to be or whatever. They are just so compatible. I mean, Zach is really funny, and Carls is a sucker for a comedian. That's most likely why she keeps Sam around. What? And me, you say? Yeah, you're probably right. Anyways, Zach is the smileyest kid I've ever met. You can just tell he's always gonna be there for Carls by the way he looks at her. They've been together for most of high school, and they are starting their second year in college so they are going pretty strong, I'd say. And it shows some character that Zach came to me first before asking her to marry him. I mean, they might be a little young, but again, they're strong. They can weather the storms of marriage. They're good kids.

Well, all this talk of relationships and stuff, I'm sure you're curious with how Seddie is doing. Yeah, I just came up with 'Seddie'. I'm just super sensitive, ladies. Oops, I'm getting married in a month. Never mind, ladies. But yeah…Seddie…okay, maybe I didn't come up with it. Maybe I saw it somewhere. You know what? It's kind of a lame name anyways. Yeah, I totally don't take responsibility for it anymore. If I had made it, it would be much cooler. And it would be something like 'Seddo' or 'Seddork' or (scroll to bottom of page for more options).

Anyways, Sam and Freddie. Yeah, they are still together and everything. But, I mean, it's _Sam and Freddie. _Of course they've had their conflicts_. _

One of the very prominent conflicts is Freddo's mom. We had the Bensons over for Thanksgiving dinner one time, and things got pretty interesting. Sam was there, of course. And she stuck around for a few days after the fact or pretty much until the aroma of turkey and pumpkin pie left the house. Anyways, what was polite visiting at the dining table eventually turned into angry bickering on the couch.

"But Freddie, look at her!" Mrs. B points at Sam, who is on the couch with her feet on my coffee table, and she is picking her ear with the antenna of Freddie's cell phone. "She is...is...you can't actually desire to be with her. It's just uncanny!"

Freddie plops down on the couch next to Sam, and snatches his phone from her ear. She lets out a whiny grunt, and Freddie instinctively reaches into his pocket and retrieves a candy bar. He hands it to Sam without looking away from Mrs. B on the chair. I'm glad someone sits on them. "Look, Mom, we have been over this." He glances at Sam as she takes an aggressive bite of the candy bar. She then smears chocolate all over my remote as she turns up the volume to my TV.

"Would you shut up?" Sam barks. "I'm trying to listen to the announcers." This conversation between Fred and Mrs. B of questioning his relationship with Sam has come up so many times, I don't think it even affects Sam anymore.

Freddie shakes his head then turns back to his mom who is still trying. "Fredward, I just wish you would at least attempt to rethink your choices in-," she frowns as Sam pinches Freddie's cheek in excitement for a sleeper hold on TV, "-companionship."

"Sorry." Sam smirks at Freddie as she tweaks his cheek. "You are just so adorkable. I couldn't keep my hands off you." Freddie rolls his eyes, but he leans down to kiss her cheek.

Mrs. B looks even more concerned. "Freddie? You are saving yourself for marriage, right?"

"Mom!" Freddie whines.

Sam laughs out loud as she tweaks his cheek again. "Mrs. B, you don't have to worry. Consider Fredd-waad's virtue to be in my hands," she says, smirking happily at the TV.

Mrs. B stiffens in her chair and grips her purse. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Freddie makes a face at his mom, then turns timidly down to Sam. But Sam still finds the situation amusing. "You should know better than to be concerned for your nerdy, morale-filled son. He has previously informed me that he wants his first time to be 'special'." She uses air quotes on 'special' and finishes with a mocking, "Awww."

"I'm sorry, the backseat of my car in the Burger Queen parking lot just isn't that special," Freddie retorts, still visibly annoyed about the memory.

Sam rolls her eyes, and Mrs. B lets out a strangled sound in her throat. She shifts her weight uneasily. "There's nothing more special then waiting until your married," she says. "Or until you are forty."

"Or never," I add. Mrs. B gives me an approving nod and continues on trying to convince Freddie that Sam is just a fling. A very dangerous fling.

So, that was just one of the many times their strange relationship was questioned by Freddie's mom. Sam's mom was totally cool with it. She's pretty much the most laid back person ever. And it's really funny seeing her and Freddie together because Freddie tries to be all polite and nice, but Sam's mom is always teasing him and calling him 'dork'. Probably because that's all she ever hears her daughter call him. Heh. It's funny. But she still likes Freddie. She, like, never has to go shopping anymore because Sam kind of always goes to Freddie for food now. Mostly out of habit. And Freddie gets annoyed, but he always has some sort of sugary treat in his pocket.

But, even with the moms getting used to the idea of them being together (well, not so much Mrs. B), they still have their struggles. Like I said, it's Sam and Freddie. What do you expect?

So, this one time, they are upstairs doing iCarly. Now, since they are all of at college, well...I should clarify that. Carly was going to some Ivy League school. Uh, Cornell (weird name) all the way in New York! I mean, I'm proud of the kid and so is my dad. Now he says maybe he's not a failure as a parent. Must everyone poke fun at me at all times? Anyhoo, I'm kind of sad she's gone. Okay, I'm really sad! I mean, she's on the east coast with Zach while I'm hanging around my living room with Sam and Freddo. Oh, apparently Carly moving out is not a reason big enough to keep Sam and Freddie out of my house. They still come and hang out, like, everyday. Oh, uh, Freddie could've gone to almost any college he wanted to with his SAT's and everything, but he attended a college here in Seattle. His mom flipped. Especially when she found out it was because Sam is staying here. Sam hasn't even applied to a school yet. She kept saying that she was just taking the year off, then the first year of college came and went, and she still hasn't applied. Freddie keeps nagging at her, but he still feeds her and everything. I would bet that Sam never goes to college 'cause she's got it in the back of her mind that Freddie is always going to take care of her. And she's super lazy.

Anyhoo, they were doing iCarly. They only do those, like, once a month now because Carly has to fly in from New York. And even once a month is getting to be a little difficult. So I don't know how long the show is going to last, but right now it's just as hilarious as ever. They have this new bit from Sam where she teaches you important life skills. Like how to politely tell someone they smell funny, or how to ignore old people, or how to run from a hobo. They are called 'Sam's How-To's'. And this time I will tell you about, Sam's how-to was 'talking to your boyfriend like he's a dog'.

So after the show, they come storming downstairs. Er, Sam and Freddie come storming. Carly is doing that floaty thing she does. Freddie actually has a reason to be storming. He's pissed. Uh, and Sam just loves to storm. Okay, I think you have a pretty good idea of how they came downstairs. Sam bounds over the back of the couch and kicks her feet up onto the coffee table. Freddie plops down next to her in an angry huff.

"You have a theory that if you talk to boys like they are dogs, they won't notice?" Freddie asks, repeating one of her earlier statements from tonight's show. "Seriously, Sam?"

"Sure!" Sam says. She looks over at me. "Here Spence! Come here boy. I've got a treat!"

A treat! I skip happily over to Sam's side and bounce a little as I wait patiently for the treat. "See?" Sam asks Freddie. Oh...uh, I don't think there's actually a treat. Man! I hang my head and walk back out to the kitchen.

"Sam, that's just...I don't know. I just don't like you talking to me like I'm a dog." Freddie throws up his arms. "Call me crazy!"

"No, you're not crazy. That's reserved for your dear mother. You haven't graduated from 'Over-concerned Nub' yet."

"Sam! Stop talking about my mom!" Freddie sighs. "I know she can be...uh-,"

"Lame?" Sam suggests.

"Overbearing?" Carly tries.

"Psychotic?" I ask.

Freddie sighs. "Yeah, those. But Sam, seriously. Just be nice."

"She isn't nice to me!" Sam yells.

"I know, but-,"

"Oh come on! You are seriously taking her side?" Sam leans back into the couch and crosses her arms. "Why am I surprised? You never agree with me."

"That's not true!"

"Is too! How come whenever we are coming up with material for iCarly, you always go with Carly's ideas? Huh?"

"Well, she's a little better with the whole _logical_ thing."

Carly shakes her head. "I am not in this. I'm going to go take a shower." Okay, see you in a few hours then.

"Logical? I can be logical!"

Freddie laughs out loud. "Do you even know what logical means?"

Sam glares up at him. "Yes," she says quietly. Freddie raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. Sam flicks his nose. "Make me a sammich!"

"No! Make your own. And it's a sandwich, Sam, a SANDWICH. Not a 'sammich'." So they continue arguing over the correct way to say 'sandwich' for awhile until Freddie finally gets so frustrated that he leaves the room with an angry slam of the front door. And Sam watches after him with a satisfied smirk. Yeah, most compatible couple ever! But not really. I don't know...they're weird.

But their struggles don't always end with slamming doors.

So it's April Fool's Day today. My favorite day of the year. So I come out of my room at, like, I don't know. Super early. Earlier than I usually would so I can get started on a few pranks. I set up a few things then notice Sam and Freddie sleeping together on the couch. They never go home! Well, they aren't really sleeping _together_. They're, like, back to back. Freddie is on his stomach, and Sam is lying on top of him like he is a piece of furniture or something. Freddie lets out a strangled breath every once in awhile, then tries to roll out from under Sam. Then she sleepily taps his cheek and forces her Fred-bed (yes! I am awesome! My word!) back into place.

Then she suddenly snaps awake and sits up straight. "Spencer?" she asks, looking down at Freddie's sleeping form. "What is today?"

"April first," I say, trying to hide the prank I'm setting up behind my back.

Sam's face turns up into a dangerous smile. "Hey Spence? Where's your razor?"

"Uh...could you maybe use on of Carly's razors?" I try uncomfortably. "I mean, I know she's not here, but I doubt she would-,"

"No, I need yours."

"In the bathroom," I sigh.

She hops off Freddie's back and heads into my bedroom, returning with my blue razor and some shaving cream. She smirks as she make her way back to the sleeping Freddie. Uh oh.

Right, well I turn away and continue the April Fool I'm setting up on my counter. Alright, looks like Sam is done with whatever future mayhem she may have caused. "Hey, Sam. Do you want some ham?"

"Duh!" She dances her way into the kitchen toward the ham on the counter. Okay, I'll let you in on this one. It's not really a ham. It's a cardboard ham. And when she reaches for it, a flap in the center of the ham will open up and she will dip her hand in a bucket of mud hidden behind the fake ham. Yeah, I know. I'm amazing. It's fine, you don't have to deny it.

Well, my plan goes off without a hitch. Except now Sam is angry and she is rubbing her mud-covered hand all over my face. I sputter and reel back for a moment. "Where the real ham?" she hisses, wiping her hand off on my shirt.

"In the fridge," I say quickly, toweling the brown slime off my face. "Uh, April Fool's." She just glares back at me as she stuffs a large piece of ham into her mouth. Okay, that went well.

Alright, well, there's still my April Fool for Freddie. I go to the closet and retrieve another cardboard object. But it's a lot bigger than the ham. And scarier, I might add. I set up the cardboard cutout next to the couch where it will be the first thing Freddie sees when he wakes up. Oh, the life size cardboard cutout is his mom. I was looking through my old pictures and found this one of Mrs. B with this crazed expression, and she's holding a syringe.

Oh, and Sam, I see, put my razor and shaving cream to good use. She shaved off Freddie's eyebrows and wrote the word 'APRIL' over his left eye, and 'FOOLS' over his right in their place. Oh, he's gonna love that. But not really. But, seriously, that's hilarious. Me being an experienced April Fooler, I am very proud of Sam right now.

So we are getting impatient as we are waiting for Freddie to wake up. I get excited when he rolls over and murmurs a bit. But he doesn't wake up, he only mumbles about Sam being lucky she's cute. Sam smirks happily, then grabs Diggy from his cage. "Alright, Dig. You know what to do?" Diggy just gives her a confused head tilt. "Say 'April Fool's'! Remember that!" Sam tells him. Then she pushes him off into the air toward the couch. He lands on Freddie back and squawks loudly in his ear.

"Ahh!" Freddie swings his arms wildly as he rolls off the couch. Diggy 'pop's excitedly as he glides up to land on his favorite Godzilla-lasagna perch. Freddie stands up and dusts himself off, finding that he is face to face with his frightening mother. He notices her syringe. He let's out another, "AHHH!" Then he takes off toward the kitchen, and hides behind Sam.

"Ha, APRIL FOOL'S," I announce as I knock over the cardboard Mrs. B.

Freddie's face falls. "That's not funny." Then he gets a bit happier as he realizes his mother is not in here and she is not holding a syringe. He smiles down at Sam. "Good morning," he says, kissing her softly.

She pats his cheek. "Mourning, dork." Then she smirks, not meeting his eyes, but looking just above them. Right where his eyebrows _should _be. Poor kid. Oh well, I have to respect a good prank. I mean, they'll grow back...probably.

"What?" Freddie asks, reading Sam's expression. She smiles and hands him the mirror she had ready. Freddie takes the mirror and timidly glances at his reflection. His face twists angrily as he takes in the image he sees. "'April Fool's'!" he reads. "Are you kidding me, Sam?"

"Yup! I am." She motions for Diggy. "That's why they say..." She points at the blue bird who is gliding toward them.

"Raaawt! April Fool's!" Diggy squawks as he lands on Freddie's shoulder. Freddie glares down at him, and Dig immediatly hops over to Sam's shoulder.

"Sam, you can't just shave off my eyebrows whenever you feel like it!" Freddie informs her.

"Hey, I haven't shaved them off in, like, a year!"

Freddie rolls his eyes as he stomps off to the couch. Sam skips after him. Diggy sees Freddie sitting at their destination, and takes off for his cage.

"You are insane," Freddie says. "And rude. You seriously don't know when a joke has gone to far." He rubs what's left of his eyebrows tenderly.

Sam rubs them too. "Whoa! They feel so cool!" Freddie glares down at her, and she turns to me for help. "It was a good practical joke, right?"

"Right," I agree. Then Freddie turns his glare to me. "Uh, er, no." Sam glares at me. "Um, I mean...uh, it was..." I pick up cardboard Mrs. B and make my way silently to the kitchen.

Freddie turns on Sam again. "I have to go to class today! How am I supposed to go like this?" He jabs a finger toward the pink lettering above his eyes.

"Oh, it doesn't matter! Stop being such a baby."

"It does to matter! I don't want to look like an idiot in class. But you wouldn't know anything about that now, would you?"

"I am not ready to go to school yet, dork! Gah, stops riding me about it!"

"Look, Sam. I just don't want you to throw away your future."

"I'm not throwing it away!" She crosses her arms. "You know my dream."

"Going to live homeless in LA for 'the thrill', as you say, is NOT a dream!" Freddie informs her angrily. See? This is why I never kick them out. They are so entertaining.

"Well, just 'cause you're too pansy to come along-,"

"Stop calling me a pansy!" Freddie crosses his arms too. "Just because I think things through-," Sam rolls her eyes and turns on the TV. "You can't even listen to me! Why do you always do that? You are so rude, and arrogant, and bossy, and obnoxious, and the only way you know how to express your feelings is through brutality!" He sighs as Sam doesn't turn away from the TV. "Especially your feelings toward me."

This last thought seems to catch her attention. She looks up, studying him for a moment. She sighs too, then crosses her legs Indian style, and turns herself completely toward him. Freddie finds this action to be amusing, and he copies her. She rolls her eyes. Then she opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She struggles for a second, then hesitates, then struggles again. Freddie smiles and waggles his eyebrows (or not so eyebrows) at her as he rests his chin in his hands. She shoots him a quick glare. "You aren't going to help me out?"

"Nope," Freddie muses.

Sam exhales slowly then reluctantly starts, "Well, I, uh, I'm sorry that I beat you up all the time."

Freddie's eyebrows (or 'April' and 'Fool') furrow. "Not _all _the time," he murmurs.

Sam ignores him. She is determined to just get this over with. "And I'm sorry that I never tell you-," she chokes a bit then swollows hard. "That I never tell you..." She glances up at him. He is smiling down at her, rather amused. "Gah, you're such a dork!" She sighs angrily. "And I LOVE it!" Freddie's eyes widen slightly as she continues, "I love your dorkiness. I don't know why in the hell I do. I must be off my rocker or something, but I just can't get enough of the way everything you do is _so_ nerdish!" Freddie looks a little angry now, but Sam ignores him. "And the way you have no backbone, and you always give in to me, I love that too. And not only 'cause it usually results in me getting a sandwich, but it shows, like, you really care about me and, er, stuff," she says with finality. But she isn't done yet. She glances around the room for inspiration, and smiles when Dig 'pop's loudly. "And the way you get all frustrated over what the bird says! I'm sorry, but I can't get enough of you when you're flustered and pissed off." She pauses for a moment, allowing Freddie to take in this newly gained knowledge.

"Uh-,"

"Just shut up, dork. Don't make this more difficult than it has to be." She rests her chin in her hands as well so she and Freddie are face to face. "And, though I may not show it-," she gulps, "-it...it, uh, really does bother me when I make you storm away and everything. Even though you're still fun to piss off. And, um, I guess I'm, er, sorry or whatever." Freddie smiles. Sam glares. "Wipe that smirks off your face, dork, or I'll do it for you." Freddie complies quickly. Sam exhales loudly and watches him for a moment. Then she begins banging her head against his arm. "So," bang, "I," bang, "guess," bang. Freddie puts his hands on her shoulders and sets her upright, smiling as he does it.

"You can do it, Sam."

Sam sighs, and closes her eyes in concentration. Uh, okay, maybe I shouldn't be here right now. But it's their own fault for never noticing me. Sam looks up at Freddie again. "I guess what I'm trying to say, is I'm sorry. And-," she clicks her tongue for a moment. Freddie waits patiently with his chin still in his hands and legs still crossed. "Alright! Gah, I love you, okay?" And with that, Sam buries her face in Freddie's shoulder and goes limp.

Freddie wraps his arms around her, and kisses the top of her head. "That wore you out a bit, huh?" he asks. She nods, still leaning into him helplessly. Freddie smiles. "Well, I love you too, Sam."

Wow. Uh, this is personal. And HUGE! I think I hear her tell Carly she loves her sometimes. And she's cooed it to Diggy a few times after he lets out a particularity rude Freddie snark. She told me she was kind of fond of me once. Anyhoo, you get my point. 'Love' is not just a word that Sam throws around.

Sam looks up at Freddie as he squeezes her gently. "You're alright, dork."

Freddie laughs. "Uh, I'm glad you think so."

"Well, I'm going to go fly a kite. " They both ignore me. Of course they do. Mah, Sam and Freddie. What do you expect?

Okay. There you have it. Not all of their struggles end badly.

Sam now has Freddie in headlock, and he is yelling at her to stop being so aggressive.

Hmm...gah, they are so confusing.

* * *

Hey, it's still Spencer. More name options from top of the page: Seddweird, Seddward, Seddweirdo, Seddwardo, Sedderly, Seddington, Seddqueer, Seddipher, Seddison and, of course, Sedd-waad. Anything but Seddie.

* * *

**Okay, sweet. Alright thanks guys. Umm...reveiw and stuff. You know the drill. Alrighty then, ta taa. **

* * *


	13. Killing romantic mood on my couch

**Ages: umm...college. I don't know, twenty two?**

* * *

I was recently posed the question of my favorite berry. So, of course in my head I'm thinking boysenberries (duh), but 'dewberries' came out of my mouth. Now I am at a total loss as to what my favorite berry is. I mean, this is a question that I have pondered many times. I have previously decided my favorite berry is the boysenberry because it's like a hybrid between three of my other favorite berries (blueberries, raspberries, loganberries). But dewberries have some kind of hold on me. I mean, yeah, they're good. But they aren't boysenberries. Urgh. But I must be more loyal to dewberries than I thought because that's what comes out of my mouth when asked about my favorite berry. 'Tis the difficult life of a berry fanatic. Maybe you can help me out. Boysenberries or Dewberries?

Hmm…where are we in this point of my couch recollections? Erm...oh yeah. Okay, I got it. So Mandy and I got married. But I can't really explain the wedding to you in depth because it didn't take place on my couch. And I am only here to tell stories about my couch (Sam and Freddie just happen to be in all of them). But I can tell you about before the wedding.

So we are getting ready to head to the church. We being me, Freddie, Sam, and Mrs. B. Carly is one of the bridesmaids, so she is already at the church. And Mandy's already there too, 'cause I'm not supposed to see the bride before the wedding because, according to Mrs. B, it's a rule or something. And if I do, we will all die.

Mrs. B is all ready to go. She came over to my apartment to give Freddie his blazer. Then she sees Sam.

"You can't wear sweatpants to a wedding!"

Sam takes another bite of the cold spaghetti. Breakfast of champions. So noodles go everywhere when she challenges, "Why not?"

Freddie, who is helping me put on the little belty thingy (which Mrs. B informed me is called a 'cummerbund'), turns to the couch sitter. "Come on, Sam. We didn't go shopping for that dress for nothing."

"You said you liked it," Mrs. B attempts.

Sam swings her hand dismissively. "Ah, I just said that so we could go home. I hate shopping."

"Well, you have to wear it." Mrs. B crosses her arms and gives Sam a stern expression. Sam gives her an equally stern expression. "Samantha, you have no choice. You are going as Freddie's date, and you need to match his blue tie."

"What is this, senior prom?" Sam stuffs an angry bite of spaghetti in her mouth. "Honestly," she says, causing the noodles hanging from her chin to wiggle a little. Man, I knew I should've gone with the clip-on bow tie. Mrs. B notices my trouble, and is now somewhat strangling me while she ties it. At least she doesn't have a syringe.

After she is done helping me, she turns back to Sam. "You have no choice, young lady. We are going upstairs right now to put that dress on. We are not about to make Spencer late for his own wedding."

Sam glares up at Mrs. B defiantly. Freddie shifts his weight and itches his head uncomfortably. And Diggy gets pudding on the shoulder of my tuxedo. Where did he get pudding?

Uh oh. Mrs. B went from 'psychotic mom mode' to 'psychotic mom running late mode' just a moment ago. So she is not afraid to grab Sam's arms and drag her up to Carly's room. When they reach the landing in between the first and second flight, Sam is clawing at the wall with all her might. She is grabbing on to anything she can. Aw, she just knocked over the awesome coat hanger I made. The last thing we see is her angry glaring face, and her finger pointing accusingly at Freddie as if to say 'this is on you, Benson', before she is ripped away from the wall and pulled upstairs.

Freddie can't settle down at all as we wait for them. I'm pretty sure he's holding his breath. And every time there is a loud 'thud' or a shrill scream from upstairs, he jumps and fidgets a little. Poor kid. You know what, I'm scared too. Heh, I bet Freddie is happy that his girlfriend and his mom get along so swimmingly (note heavy sarcasm). But Freddie's fidgeting and gasping subsides when his mother and Sam emerge down the stairs again. They aren't like holding hands or anything, but at least the two ladies have stopped their angry yelling. That's nice.

Speaking of nice, Sam looks really nice right now in her greenish-blue (turquoise? Aqua? I don't know dress colors) dress. Freddie notices too, of course. "Wow Sam! You look, uh, beautiful."

Sam's eyes flutter for a moment. Heh. Then she catches herself. Her glare returns. "Why do you sound so surprised?" Then she decides to turn this little exchange into an intense struggle as an excuse to take her anger about wearing a dress out on someone. The second fixing of Sam's mussed hair then follows, along with the icing of Freddie's eye and his sputtering apologies.

So, yeah. That was before the wedding. I had to go eighty on a forty-five to get to the church on time. Mrs. B almost had a heart attack. So the wedding was cool. And fun. And all that chizz. Alright, you ladies probably want some details. Details, details…Uh, Mandy wore a white dress. I wore a tux (which I looked FINE in, by the way). Hmm…Oh yeah! There was a cheese fountain! I knew keeping Zach around would be a good idea.

Oh, and Sam and Freddie got kicked out. Are you actually surprised?

Yeah, the whole ceremony stopped for them and everything. They were in the front row, so Mandy and I got a pretty good view of the whole thing. They really got into it. It started when Sam was growing restless. I suppose sitting an hour for something other than MMA is a lot to ask from Sam. So, she was in need of some entertainment about halfway through the thing, and Freddo was sitting right next to her. And that's like instant gratification for Sam's entertainment needs. She starts nudging Freddie a bit, hoping to get a rise out of him. And, when it comes to Sam, Freddie just can't resist the temptation to nudge her back a little harder. You know, for the most part Freddie is a pretty well-tempered young dude. I don't know if you've noticed, but the only time he loses his goat is around Sam. And, ironically (my favorite word, just to let you know) this is, like, why they work out. Well, kind of work out, I suppose.

Anyhoo, Sam and Freddie were nudging each other back and forth. And if you have come to learn anything about these two yet, you know this turned from a playful game into an intense struggle. Yeah, the vows were put on hold when Carly had to run down from her place with the other bridesmaids and peel Sam's hands from around Freddie's neck. There were a few gasps from some of Mandy's family who hadn't met Sam and Fred yet, but nobody else was surprised. Sam-o and Freddo were then asked to leave by one of the ushers, and then we continued on with the ceremony. Don't feel sorry for them though. It's their own fault they got kicked out. Plus, I'm pretty sure they just made out in an empty closet until the reception. In fact, Sam probably planned their whole escape. She is quite the little conniving schemer. And she has the ability to play Freddie like a fiddle, which she uses as often as possible.

So the wedding was a good time all in all. Oh, and I should tell you that at this point in my recounting, Sam is attending some small community college. Dramatic pause....Yeah, she finally cracked when I mentioned something about her being very dependent on Freddo.

So we are chillaxin it out in my living room. Uh, we being Sam, and Freddo, and I. Carls went back to New York after spring break and Mandy is at the store. That's one of the best things about being married. I don't have to shop anymore. The worst this about being married is that Sam and Freddie don't understand how to give a newly wed couple space. They are hanging out on my couch all the time still. But Freddie is a smart kid. He realizes they shouldn't be here all the time. Sam doesn't. She just knows that I have a fridge, a TV, and a couch. That is reason enough for her to keep hanging around. But I guess they aren't around as much as they used to be with both of them being in college and everything. Just every other night.

But, like I said, Freddie knows that we need some space. He has been trying to take Sam out at night to dinner or to a movie or just somewhere other than my living room. But that usually doesn't go as planned.

"Hey, Sam? Do you want to go-,"

"Shh! The fight's on!"

Or one time...

"Sam, I got us these amazing seats in the Performing Arts Center and-,"

"Nope. Mama's got plans."

"What kind of plans?"

"There is a couch and a remote who will be very lonely tonight if I leave."

But Freddie gets her every once in awhile.

"Hey Sam, before you say no, the reservations are at a steakhouse!"

"Hmm...I guess we could make it work."

Yeah. That's how that usually goes. Just like when they were seventeen. Sam still has issues with official 'dates' unless there are large quantities of meat involved. Anyhoo, like I said, Carls is in New York and Mandy is shopping. I'm baking a cake. Sam is watching TV, of course, and Freddie just arrived. Whoa! And he's in a tuxedo! And now I'm going to go put mine on...

"Why are you wearing a tux?" Sam asks as I make my way from my room back out to the kitchen.

"Because Freddie gets to!"

Sam looks over at Freddie, who has his arms crossed and is glaring down at her. "Good point. Hey Fredward, why are you wearing a tux?"

"You know why!"

"Ah, come _on_. Le Gourmand! It just has a lame name."

"Sam," Freddie whines. "I made those reservations months ago!"

Sam rolls her eyes and makes room on the couch, then grabs his arm and pulls him down. "It's Gibson's last season. He's retiring. I can't miss his last few fights."

I'm thinking 'uh oh' as I bat Diggy away, who is trying (and succeeding) to eat my cake batter. We all know it may as well be the end of the world when Sam's favorite sweaty men retire. Freddie sighs. He knows this too. "Sam, please. This reservation is really important to me."

Sam looks at him for a moment, genuinely tempted. I mean, she sometimes goes out of her way to make sure Freddo doesn't get what he wants. But when you actually love a person, I guess you are at least tempted to make them happy. Sam sighs too and looks back at the TV, then back at Freddo, then the TV again. "Ah, never mind!" Freddie says in a huff as he settles into the couch. "I rented this tux for nothing."

Sam snorts. "Heh. You rented it?" Then she laughs out loud. "I was just planning on wearing these sweats," she says, tugging at the pair of Freddie's pants she stole.

Freddie shakes his head at her. "You are impossible. I don't know how I can stay with you."

Sam rolls her eyes. "Well, you could try to leave again, but we all know what that's gonna do."

Freddie exhales then shrugs, "You're right." Poor guy. It must be extremely frustrating to love Sam. But I guess he hasn't given up yet. And he hasn't given up on the dinner reservations either. "Uh, Sam? They were prepaid reservations," he tries.

Sam sighs. "Ugh, I will pay you back. Stop trying to make me feel bad."

"You won't pay me back! You never do!" he yells, tearing a little at his bow tie.

"You're right," Sam says, turning up the volume of the fight. Freddie watches her with an incredulous expression. "Gah, why is this dinner so important to you? You are such a girl!" She looks up at him thoughtfully for a moment, then asks, "Do you sit when you pee?"

Diggy chimes in, "Raaawt! Freddie sits when he pees!" Good. Now the bird is gonna say it. He 'pop's at me as I flick pink cake batter at him. Then he gets excited and starts licking it off his cage.

Freddie is visibly angry, so Sam pats his cheek with a happy smirk. "Any romantic mood I try to set, you kill it. You take, and you stab it, and it dies," he whines

Sam's smirk only grows. "I am a proud romantic mood murderer. What can I say?"

Freddie crosses his arms, but he can't help but smile back when Sam flashes him a grin. She kisses his cheek then goes back to the wonderful world of MMA. But Freddie still has something on his mind. "Sam?"

"Huh?" she grunts.

Freddie struggles with himself for a moment, then he finally comes to a decision. He drops down on a knee in front of Sam, letting out a pained yelp as his thigh collides with the coffee table.

Wait, is he...? He is! HE IS! Ahhhhhh! Yeah! Woo hoo!

Sorry for that moment of fangirlish squeals. What I meant to say was; Ew.

Sam smirks down at him after he hits the coffee table, then takes in the position Fred is in with wide eyes. "Sam?" he starts again. He extracts a small black box from his pocket. "Will you marry me?" Dude, I think Sam just let out a little girlish gasp type thing...I'm going to check out the window to see if pigs are flying.

A smile plays at the corner of Sam's lips as her surprise is replaced by her usual laid back nature. "Right here? Really?" she asks, still smirking. Of course. Where else would it happen, _not_ on the couch? Psssht.

Freddie sighs, hanging his head slightly. "I wanted this to be special."

Sam sighs too. "It is special. Uh, all the crap you do is special," she says quietly. Then she catches the pleased expression on Freddie's face. And she can't have that now can she. "In a dorky sort of way," she adds.

Freddie rolls his eyes, and holds the ring a bit closer to her face. "Everything you say has to be a snide remark." Sam just smirks.

"And I get your persistence with the dinner reservations now," she laughs. "And the desire to wear a tux."

Freddie heaves an exasperated sigh. "You never shut up." He repositions himself to his other knee impatiently. "Would you just answer the question?"

Sam gives him this well-practiced stubborn look. "You told me to shut up."

Freddie gives her this well-practiced warning look. "Sam, you've killed enough romantic mood for one night." Sam flashes him a smile, then leans in and kisses him. Just when Freddie begins reacting, she pulls back and smirks. "Is, um, that a yes?"

Sam's turn to roll her eyes. "Do you even have to ask?"

Freddie grins. "Uh, it's just common courtesy not to assume things. And, uh, to put it nicely...you're kind of spontaneous. There was honestly no way I could know how you were going to answer me."

Sam laughs, "Ha, so that's why you were a nervous wreck all week." Freddie just furrows his eyebrows, which have grown back since the last time we talked. "Well, I'm in a good mood. I just ate seventeen Fat Cakes. So, my answer is yes."

Freddie smiles and slips the ring on her finger, then pulls her to her feet. He wraps his arms around her saying, "I was hoping you would have a full stomach when I asked." Then he kisses her before she can retort. And the kiss deepens, naturally. And they stay like that for a very long time. And they are in my living room, naturally. But they aren't on the couch this time...that's unnatural.

I give em' a few minutes, then fling cake batter in their direction as well. They break apart and look back at me, noticing me for the first time. Freddie looks a bit embarrassed, but Sam is just all smiley as she swipes her finger through the pink batter splattered across the back of his neck. She licks her finger happily, then heads into the kitchen. She grabs a spoon and stalks toward me and my batter. After she fights past me to get a few bites, she returns to the living room to the aggravated Freddo and clicks her tongue nonchalantly a few times. She bounces up and down on the balls of her feet as she chews the corner of her lips indecisively. Then her stomach lets out an angry growl. She heaves deep sigh as she finally comes to a decision.

"Freddo? You wanna go out on that date thingy, or what?"

Freddie smiles and pulls her into a hug. "Thank you, Sam. I love you."

"Yeah, yeah, love you too." She breaks out of his hold and looks up at him. "But I'm not changing out of these sweatpants."

"Of course you aren't," Freddie says, as he leads her to the door. "You'll just be the most under dressed person Le Gourmand has ever seen."

It happened so fast, but Mandy and I suddenly have the house to ourselves. And when I inform her of this after she gets home, she informs me that she is tired and she is going to bed. So I spend the night sitting on my coffee table, watching TV with Diggy, and we consume an entire cake. And somehow the bird gets more than me. It is a miracle that he is still living. Wow, I'm tired of hanging out with the sarcastic bird on my Friday nights. Being married sucks.

Heh, but not really. The good definitely outweighs the bad. Hmm...That's me and Mandy though. We'll see if this is true for Sam and Freddo.

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**Okay, two more chapter. We can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Thanks guys, later. **

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	14. Toasting my couch

**Hey people. How goes it? Uh, sorry I haven't been the updatinest fool lately. Track, and school, and all that good stuff. Sorry. But, here, read this. **

**Ages: uh, still 22 or 23...still in college, I guess. **

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…Unhello to you.

Sorry, I'm in a pooey mood. You see, I want to buy a monkey. You know, monkeys. You doesn't want a monkey? Well, my wife does not want a monkey. She let me get a new fish though. Swimmington III is his name. I just hope he doesn't go down like the other two Swimmingtons. I will keep him away from toasters, and garbage disposals…and plugged in curling irons. Anyways, yeah, Mandy doesn't want a monkey. She says she's already has to take care of me, and Diggy, and the baby--

Oh yeah! I'm a pappy! Er, dad…Daddy, Daddio, Paps, Pops, Poppa, Poppa Shee-Sho, Old Man, Thunder, Thunder Cakes, Poppa Spenc-o…I haven't decided what I want her to call me yet. Probably 'Sire' or something cool. Or Carl. I've always liked that name. But, yeah, we have a daughter now. Her name is Lillian Ann Shay. Lilly for short. And she is the cutest thing ever! Like, I have seen some pretty cute babies in my time, but Lilly is seriously just the sweetest little kid. But she looks nothing like me. She looks exactly like Mandy, and even a little like Carly, but not at all like me. She acts like me though.

So, she was like a few weeks old, just getting used to moving her arms and stuff. She's swinging 'em around like there's no tomorrow, all excited and giggly, like she's trying to fly away or something. Then she tips over Swimmington III's bowl, and he slips out an open window. Darn it! I didn't think to keep him away from open windows and smiley one-month-olds. Poor Swimmington III...but nobody is surprised. And then Lilly starts hitting her head against the stove (yeah, babies are weird stuff. Cute, but weird. And random), and then the stove suddenly bursts into flames! Dude, she is totally my daughter.

Welp…I bet you are wanting me to fill you in on what's gone down around here since Freddo popped the question to Sam. Okay, (taking a deep breath) well we had Lilly, Carls and Zach decided to put the wedding off until after they have graduated (sensible young kiddos), Mrs. B has been making some desperate last attempts to talk her son out of marrying Sam, Diggy got super fat, Sam's mom moved to San Francisco with this rich fortune teller dude named Rico, Mandy has been nagging at me to get rid of Godzilla, and Sam and Fred have been doing some intense wedding planning. Whew! That was all in on breath, just to let you know.

Oh, when I say Freddie and Sam have been planning their wedding, I mean Freddie. And Mrs. B, of course. Sam really couldn't care less. And she has no opinion on anything.

Sam would ask, "What d'you mean 'eggshell or off-white'? They are the same thing!"

Then Mrs. B would yell something like, "Are you blind, or really that ignorant? There are _two tints_ difference!"

Or, Sam would be like, "Are you sure we can't get married by an MMA fighter?"

Then Mrs. B, "No, Samantha! My son and my future daughter-in-law will be married by a priest, right Freddie?"

Then Freddie would sneak away from the room until the flames died down, and Mrs. B forgets she asked him a direct question. But, somehow, the wedding was planned. And I bet you want to hear all about it. Well, I can tell you some stuff, just let me get through this memory first.

Okay, so I'm standing in my living room, holding my kiddo. Uh, my Lilly kiddo. My other kiddos are a bit too big to hold these days. And we are trying to come up with an appropriate gift for the big kiddos' wedding. I suggested to Mandy that we just get them something useful. Like seasonal tickets to Felix Caro's (Sam's new guy) MMA matches. I probably wouldn't be Freddie's favorite person in the world, but Sam would worship me. But Mandy sympathized with Freddie on this one. She also turned down my suggestion of a coupon book to Burger Queen. Again, Sam would be absolutely thrilled. And, hey, happy Sam means happy Freddie…for the most part. Unless her happiness is caused by his pain, which occurs way more often for them than for your average functioning couple. Anyhoo, Mandy says that our gift needs to have some sentimental value and everything. Especially since I'm the best man and all.

Oh, I'm Freddo's best man! Yeah, it's awesome. I consider it a small conquest of sorts. I mean, I can put the adjective 'best' in front of my name now with a valid excuse! But I kind of feel bad that Fred wasn't my best man now. Oh well. I told Socko nine years ago that he would be my best man after he first introduced me to lighty-uppy socks. And Socko looks really cute in a bow tie…not like weird cute. Like teddy bear cute. Jeeze, I'm in touch with my feminine side, okay? I raised my kid sister for years, and now I'm married. So, I've seen my fair share of chick flicks. You guys are so judgmental.

Right, well…uh...Right! Our present. So I'm currently looking around my house for something that has 'sentimental value' to Sam and Freddie. Lilly is gnawing on my ear. Diggy is lying across the couch on his huge gut. Yeah, he just never stops eating anymore. And he's more sarcastic too. I think his aggressive tongue is to make up for his lack in movement. Hmm…Hey, what about Godzilla? He has some sentimental value to him! I mean, he's been around since their first date. He's watched them turn into what they are, and supplied some very interesting Italian food and Japanese culture related conversation. And Mandy wants me to get rid of him. She says he's tacky. Uh, she's right. A giant green lizard in the corner of our living room…tacky. But his head is kind of stuck in the rafters. Oh, and Freddie got caught between his legs that one time. Heh, that was funny. But it also lead to his breaking up with Sam. So, probably not the best present for a newly wed couple.

Uh…the remote! There have been so many fights/make out sessions indirectly caused by this remote. Not to mention the times it's been licked, or it's made some sort of contact with Freddie's head. It's just buzzing with sentimental value! But…I kind of need it for my TV, I guess. Okay, scratch that.

"Umm…how about we just by them an engraved picture frame? Or some plates or something."

Lilly doesn't answer me. But Diggy does. "Raawt! Freddie's mom is crazy!"

I sigh. He's right. Mrs. B will probably have every un-sharp kitchen implement known to man for them already. Hmm…Hey, what about Diggy?

Yeah, Diggy! I mean, Diggy would be the perfect present. Okay, so, he would probably squawk and insult Freddo during the reception while we hand over the gifts, but Sam will love it. And Freddie will have to deal with it. And Diggy misses them too. Well, he misses Sam. Freddie, not so much. But he calls Freddie's name all lonesome like (oh, he is whining for Sam when he calls Freddie's name. 'Freddie' is just his most frequently used word, and he's smart enough to associate it with Sam) at night, or when I get angry with him. And honestly, he's a bad influence on Lilly. I wouldn't be surprised if her first words are, 'Rawt. Uncle Freddie's a nub!' Yeah, Dig just has to go. And who better to take him off my hands than the couple who really screwed him up?

But, honestly, I would be disappointed to receive the cynical, lazy bird as my wedding present. Huh…you know what? I've got just the perfect gift to go along with the Blue-and-Yellow Macaw. Oh, it was so obvious! And perfect…Alright, now I can tell you a bit about the wedding.

Well, I lied. But I can tell you about the reception. You see, I decided to give Sam and Freddo my couch. Yeah, I know, I know. It sounds crazy. A couch? But seriously, if Mandy wants sentimental value, I think we hit the jackpot. And nobody will understand the sentimental value of my couch more than its usual inhabitants.

So why are my couch's usual inhabitants looking at me like I'm crazy as I have Socko's cousins wheel it in to the reception hall? And it's not only them, the entire place seems to think that I've lost it as I lead the large couch-carrying men to the pile of presents on a table. And they have enough sense to set it next to the table! Who says large movers are short on the intelligence side of things? Diggy is on the table with a bright red bow on his cage. He hops around a bit as I approach. Not at the sight of me, but Socko's chef cousin, Cooky, just walked in carrying a huge cake. Sam is becoming a little antsy at the sight of the large quantity of sugar too. I wonder if Freddie is going to be able to handle both of them under the same roof. Oh well, not my problem anymore. If I could, I'm sure he can.

Yeah, Freddie is walking over to me right now as I'm paying Socko's uncles...er, cousins...distant relatives? Homies? Bros? I don't know. "Hey Freddo! The reception is pretty rockin' awesome."

"Yeah, thanks," he laughs. "Uh, what up with the couch?"

"Erm..." Isn't it obvious? "I'm giving him-er, it-to you and Sam. You know, for your wedding gift and everything." Diggy 'pop's and belches (one he learned from Sam last night at the rehearsal dinner). "Oh, and you guys get Diggy too." Freddie just shifts his weight and itches his head. "You know, sentimental value and all that chizz."

Mandy saves Freddie from and awkward reply, and me from singing 'Ope bo doe doe' to relieve the awkwardness. "Hey guys," she says, coming over to us and handing Lilly off to me. "Your daughter stinks." Wow. That is an understatement. Ugh. "Oh, Freddie, congratulations!" she says, pulling him into a hug.

"Thanks, Mandy. And, uh, thanks for the couch...and the bird."

She lets go of him and nods toward me. "Yeah, those were all Spence."

"You're the one who said their present needed sentimental value!" I try to hand Lilly back to her. The kid's smiling and giggling. That means she is about to get a bit stinkier.

Mandy backs away, and waves her hands saying, "No, no, no! It's your turn!" I let out a disgruntled sigh. Freddie laughs.

"You think it's funny, Freddo?" I gesture over to Sam, who has her feet up on a table, looking around at her wedding reception with a bored expression. Yeah, she's been avoiding Freddie's relatives all night, and now they know better than to actually approach her. "Just wait until it's your guys' turn."

Freddie rubs the back of his neck as he watches Sam for a moment. Then he lets out a barely audible gulp before making his way over to her. Mandy fixes Lilly's bangs. Then she fixes mine, before saying, "Hey, you're almost on for the toast. You know what you're gonna say?"

"NO!" Toast? Toast! "Nobody mentioned anything about a toast!"

Mandy laughs. "Uh, Spence, that's just kind of the way things go. The best man gives a toast."

"Uh...not at our wedding."

Mandy sighs. "Socko, like, never talks. Of course he wasn't going to give us a toast. But Carly's was still good."

"Carly can give Sam and Fred's toast!"

"She already is giving them a toast! She's the maid of honor after all." Mandy pats my shoulder. "You can do it. I have faith in you." Then she bounces off toward Zach to greet him. She's so greety and bubbly. It makes me sick. But not really. She turns back to me before she reaches Zach, "And change her diaper, Poppa!"

Yeah...so I am changing Lilly's diaper in a nearby bathroom. Um, I'm not going to be very descriptive of this particular situation. For both of our sakes. Oh! Arrgh! How does on small child make such a mess?

Okay, that is over. Not a good time. And, as if to reward me for a job well done, Lilly is now gumming my nose. Yay, baby spit. Good fun. Gah, she's lucky I love her so much. So is her mommy. Well, looks like people are starting to make their way toward the tables. Dinner is about to be served. Uh oh. Looks like I'm on.

I hand Lilly to Mandy as I join her at the front table with Carly, Zach, Mrs. B, Fred's cousin Tom, some other dude who I never took the time to introduce myself to, Lucky the hobo who Sam decided to invite, and Sam's mom (I just found out her name is Jennette...which is weird to just find out. I've known her for, like, twelve years). Uh, Sam and Freddie should be up here too. But they aren't. Sam has found her way to the couch. I watch as she plops down over the entire thing, not caring or thinking about her dress. Freddie follows hurriedly after her, fixing her dress, and trying to pull her to her feet.

"Naw," she grunts. "Stop it, Fredward! I am comfortable. And I've been on my feet all day!"

Freddie sighs. The last statement isn't really true, but the hour it took for the priest to marry 'em, that was a long time for Sam to stand. He finally gives in, scooting her over, and taking his usual place next to her. Mrs. B glares at him from across the room, and points to his empty seat next to her. Freddie shrugs and points at Sam, who is leaning sleepily into his shoulder. "Hey, Sam, wake up. The toasts are gonna start soon," he tells her. Urgh...That's me. Aw mustard!

She sighs and sits up. "Can't we just get right to eating?"

Freddie smiles down at her. "I'm sorry, Sam." He leans in and kisses her cheek, but only to cover up his action of sneaking her a candy bar from his pocket. I see they are still doing the treat thing...seems to be a system that works out for them. Hmm...and I vaguely remember Sam saying that Freddie was like her dog on iCarly once...umm...maybe she had that a bit inverted.

And now everyone is looking at me. Gulp time. Alright, let's do the dang thang. "Uh." I stand up, and raise my cup a little. Yeah, I'm not really sure how this is supposed to go. "Umm...well, I am here to give a toast to Sam and Freddo...er, Freddie. Uh, Fredward? Frederly? Rock and Pink Mystery." Some of Fred's sensible relatives who haven't had the pleasure of meeting me yet are looking rather baffled. Yeah. "So, ah, I guess this is a toast, and stuff. Er, to Fred. To Sam. To my couch." Um, this isn't getting the reaction I was hoping for. Nobody, not even Sam and Freddo, seems to be getting the couch thing. People are so dense! Sam and Freddie should at least get where I'm going with the couch. They are the ones who took it over so many years ago.

Hmm...Maybe their takeover was subconsciousness. Maybe I'm the only one who ever noticed that all the crap between them happened on my couch. Or a lot of it...ew...actually, I hope most of it didn't happen on my couch.

At any rate, I'd better explain myself a little better right now. "Anyhoo, yeah. Sam and Freddie. A lot of stuff has happened to those two on my couch." Sam cocks her eyebrow in confusion. Without looking at her, Freddie makes the same expression. "It became apparent that the kiddos had a lot of, er, _chemistry _a long time ago." This gets a few laughs from the crowd. They have all seen Freddie and Sam's strange _chemistry._ Or maybe they are just being polite. I hate giving toasts. "Uh, I think the first time they sat on my couch together, they were, like, twelve. And Sam beat Freddie with a frying pan." I glance back up at Sam and Fred. Doesn't look like this recollection is ringing any bells for the two. "But it appears that frying pan beatings have occurred too often for either of them to remember this particular time." This brings about a few genuine laughs. Okay, I can do this. Laughter. I love creating laughter.

Mandy smiles up at me as I look at her. Sam and Freddie are still waiting patiently for the rest of their toast. Well, Freddie is patient. Sam is already bored out of her mind. But it's Sam. I don't feel too bad. "Uh, then things started getting interesting between the two. They were forced to hang out because my little sister, Carly, because they did this web show called iCarly for years." I few people in the crowd mumble in remembrance of the hit web show. "Anyway, Freddie," I raise a hand up to him, "no offense, but Freddie was the nerdy tech-producer. And Sam was the over assertive co-host. Bully and geek forced to hang out in the same room for hours while they planned shows...yeah, things were going to happen." Okay, this is alright. I can do this toast thing. "But not all of those things were wedgies, and beatings and, practical jokes. Uh, I think they were about fourteen when I came home one night and found all three of the trio asleep on my couch. So I took Carls up to her room, and when I came back downstairs, Sam and Fred were 'accidentally' all snuggled up with each other." A series of 'aw's sound from the crowd. Sam grimaces up at Freddie, who is smiling in vague remembrance of this. "And I just left them there, curious of how things would turn out in the morning. I'm so good at playing the annoying older brother. Yeah, I'm pretty sure Sam beat him, or shaved off his eyebrows, or something when they woke up like that."

Freddie frowns as his hand absentmindedly rubs the hair above his eyes. Sam smiles up at him this time. "And that was just the beginning," I continue. And now I officially have the crowd hooked. "They were coming over everyday, fighting and arguing, and ignoring everyone else outside of their little zone." This is my first time mentioning my 'zone' theory out loud. And Sam seems to think it's pretty cool.

She ruffles Freddie's hair as she whispers, "Heh, we have a zone. Cool." Freddie smiles, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"Uh, at some point, they started taking over my couch. Like, anytime I came home and just wanted to plop down on my couch, they were sitting there, conniving or arguing or fighting. And when I say fighting, I mean FIGHTING." I point down to the couch. "You see that broken arm rest on the left side? Yeah, that was caused by one of their heads being slammed into it." Sam looks to her right (oh, my left. I'm facing them) to see the snapped wood. She smiles in fond remembrance.

"And I totally won that one, right Spence?" She puts Freddie in a headlock for good times sake.

"Yes, you did. Eight to seven, the first MMA Sunday score. Now let Freddo go," I say, before Mrs. B freaks out. Sam elbows him once before she slackens her grip. Freddie rubs his neck and shakes his head at her. She just leans into him and pulls his arm around her shoulders again.

"Anyways, yeah, they started this tradition of taking out their anger on each other every MMA Sunday. Sam gets really aggressive on these days." I look down to her for approval. She nods and shrugs in agreement. "And then I brought my wife Mandy over," I put my hand on top of her head. She looks up at me with this little lopsided smile. "Uh, but this was while we just started dating. I was afraid to let her meet my couch's usual inhabitants. I mean, I'm not gonna lie. Sam and Freddo, you guys have scared away past girlfriends before." I smile in return to Freddie's grin. "But, I guess that's how I decided to marry her," I laugh. "She could actually handle Sam and Freddie, who were kind of just apart of my daily life at that time. And they were _so_ annoying back then too!" Another round of laughter sounds. "Heh...no, seriously. They were. Anyways, it took Mandy, like, two seconds to figure out that they were totally in to each other. It took me, uh, lets see...well, I still don't believe it." More laughter, even a bit from the bored bride this time. That's exciting.

Sam cups her hands around her mouth and calls "Me either!"

I laugh as I point to her. Then we both settle down under Freddie's scowl. "Anyhoo," I begin. "I remember the first time I walked in on you guys making out-," I'm interrupted by a few 'woohoo's from some of their old class mates. Sam scowls at their table. Freddie tightens his hold around her shoulder. "Yeah, there was no 'woohoo' for me. It was pretty strange. I mean, it's a lot for a guy to go from seeing his sister's two annoying friends beating the tar out of each other to making out." There are a few more laughs as I look up thoughtfully. "Yeah, I'm still scarred from that first time. But, as this kind of became their new favorite pastime, I got used to them making out _all_ the time." I hear a strangled sound come from behind me. Poor Mrs. B. She is never going to get used to the fact that Freddie has grown up...especially because he grew up with Sam.

"Heh, yeah. They were pretty fun to watch. I mean, not that!" People are absolutely cracking up now. Diggy is 'popping' above all of the laughter though. "Shut up, Dig! I meant to say that their fights and bickering were fun to watch after they became a couple!" People are still laughing. It's fine...I'm used to people laughing on my account...on my awkward account. "Well, they were kind of a couple. It took a lot of convincing from Freddie to finally get Sam to allow him to announce their dating each other and everything. But she never let him call her his girlfriend." The people who know Sam aren't laughing, 'cause they know I'm serious.

"So, of course they had their struggles. I mean, it's Sam and Freddie. I have never met two people who get more joy out of pissing each other off." Fred and Sam both nod in agreement as they smile at each other. Then Sam smirks and flicks his nose. Fred's eyebrows furrow as he huffs. "I think there was only one time when things actually got out of hand, and they took a break for awhile. But, like, the first time they saw each other after the break up, they were like instantly on my couch, making out again." People start applauding a bit. Gah, people are so lame. This is not a good memory for anyone...well, not for me. And I'm sure it's not for Brittney Wieners...Hmm...I wonder what happened to her...Poor rebound. Anyhoo, "Anyhoo, after that they were pretty much inseparable. Well, kind of. Probably just because Freddie took to carrying candy bars around with him, so when his aggressive blonde got feisty, he had a way to calm her down while still steering clear of frying pans and bo staffs." More laughs from my tuned in audience. Okay, toasting isn't so bad.

"Uh, so Freddie asked Sam to marry him on the couch, of course. And she obviously said yes, but not before she was able to tease his strategy of popping the question, and eat seventeen fat cakes, and turn Freddie down on dinner reservations. Yeah, I felt so bad for Freddie anytime he wanted to ask Sam out. It was like asking her out on their first date all over again every time. But, uh, they managed. They're married now." I smile up at Sam and Fred. "Heh, did you guys see them during the vows. Sam was getting all restless and was squeezing Freddie's hand as tight as she could for a bit of entertainment." A few people who also saw this are smiling and nodding. "Yeah, Freddo, nice job keeping your composure." Sam pats his cheek as he sighs. "Anyways, through all the fights, and all the curve balls, and all the random making out, these two are actually getting married." I pause at this point, possibly adding some effect. "I mean, if you would've told me that they would get married the first time that they shared my couch, and fought and constantly ripped at each other, I would've never believed you. Probably the the most unlikely pair of all time, but you guys will work out." I smile at the couch sitters. It oddly looks natural for them to be in their wedding attire sitting on my couch. Just another snap shot from another random memory. "You always do. You're Sam and Freddie, after all. So, uh, good luck guys. Good luck not pushing Freddie over the edge, Sam. And Freddo, good luck being married to Sam. We love you, kiddos. Enjoy the couch."

And I guess that sounds like a closer, because everyone is applauding and stuff. Oh, I am so good. I just made that bad boy up on the fly. Gah, I'm the man...the BEST man. Yeah, pun. I'm so flippin punny, there's just no getting around it.

Well, Carly's turn. Whatever she has to say is going to sound so lame after my awesome toast.

"Uh, well, that's gonna be a hard act to follow," she says as she stands up. But, she's my cute and equally charismatic/charming little sister. She knows how to turn a crowd. "Jeeze, Spence. We didn't know you knew so much about Sam and Freddie's relationship."

"Yeah," Sam calls. "Me either. I'm not gonna lie, it's kind of weird."

Carly nods gravely, rearing up my faithful audience into a fit of laughs. And they are not with me this time. They are at me. I sit down and set my face on the table. I had 'em eating out of my hand just a moment ago! Gah.

So Carly continues, "Well, Spencer pretty much covered anything I was going to say. And Sam is getting hungry, so we'll keep it short. Um, you guys are the most entertaining couple on the planet, I must say. And you guys have been the best friends a girl could ask for over the years. So, thank you. And good luck. And I love you guys." She lets a round of applause sound before she finishes, "Oh, and just know that when I come to visit, I'm not past bringing a spray bottle." And a few more kindhearted laughs, ('cept from Sam. Things get serious when the spray bottle is mentioned) and the toasts are over. Thank God.

Sam is just as excited as I am, 'cause now we get to eat. And Diggy is pretty happy too. Any little kid here has already fed him, like, two pieces of cake at this point. The bird's in heaven.

Well, there you have it. The couch was present at the reception. And Sam lounged boredly across it the entire night, except for their dance. Then she was right back on the couch again. But, during the dance, Sam is actually acting like a newly wed bride. Like, she was all smiley and grinny, and she is resting her cheek on Freddie's shoulder. Freddie, the one who she's hated and called a dork forever. And Freddie's holding her like, like...I don't know, like there was nothing in the world that could be better than Sam. Sam, the one who has been his personal tormentor for the last ten years. They are so confusing, and weird. But, it's times like these when I actually believe that they're right for each other. That they are gonna make it. Sam and Freddie...who would've thought?

Well, I better go take Diggy way from the cake, before he dies. Later gators.

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**Okay, one more. Maybe two...prolly one. Okay, thanks guys. I kind of felt like this one was boring, cuz it's like a recap of everything. But once I got started on Spence's toast, I couldn't stop. So, yeah...alrighty, next one should be out soon. Thanks guys. **


	15. Their couch

**Hiya. I have nothing interesting to say. Er, enjoy, I guess. Oh, and sorry it took me so long to update. My brother has been being a jerk the past few days, and never lets me use the computer just to piss me off, cuz he knows I need to update. And I can't boss him around, cuz he's a lot bigger than me. Don't worry, I have my ways of getting back at him. He will either have a blue hair or blue skin the night before he has to go to prom...heh, I'm evil.  
**

**Ages: eh...twenty three. They graduated. Oh, and the second scene in this chapter is about a year after the first. Okay, enjoy. Last one D:  
**

* * *

Hey. I'm making me some PB and J right now…I just got peanut butter all over my shirt.

Well, how are you doing today/tonight? Cool. I ate a poppy seed muffin twenty four minutes ago. Just thought I should let you know. And my new favorite animal is a reindeer, because they're awesome. Uh, what else? Hmm…I stubbed my toe. It hurt. But it was totally worth it 'cause Mandy just bought all of these awesome sparkly bandaids for Lilly (who tends to injure herself as much as her father), and she let me use one! It was awesome…I stared at it for a very long time. Okay, maybe I stubbed my toe on purpose. But hey, a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do in order to get his sparkly/shiny/colorful fill…well, maybe just me. Meh.

Okay, okay! I know…you want to hear about the newly weds…Meh again.

Well, they are living here in Seattle. Uh, they just graduated. Freddie lucked out and landed some nice job in an office that has something to do with computer science. I don't really know. He explained it to me, but whenever Freddie goes all 'technology, mah, words, mah' on me, I get this kind of dull buzzing sound in my ears and I can't hear anything he's saying. I think this is true about most people he explains it to actually. Especially Sam. If you ask her about her husband's work, she'll probably say something along the lines of 'boring as hell' or 'nubbish'. She doesn't really care, as long as he is bringing home the bacon (and this is a literal statement…it's Sam after all). And, yes, Freddie does definitely bring home the bacon. He is so lucky, just getting out of college and getting hired into Pear Inc. to help with new computer designs. Some guys just walk in the light. I guess his being a nerd all through high school, and making good grades, and being the president of the AV club paid off for the kid.

But, hey, I'm doing alright too. I mean, my art has kind of become HUGE. I say this with all of the humility in the world, but I'm the man. Yeah, there have been so many businesses and studios that have my artwork on demand. On demand! Like people call me and make requests then gush about how amazing my art is. I don't even have to find work anymore. They come to me. And Mandy took Mrs. Brigg's place at Ridgeway Middle School, so we are doing alright. We are still in the same apartment, but not because we couldn't move into a bigger place, I'm just really attached.

Carls and Zach are doing perfectly. They decided to jump on the band wagon, and they are married now. They moved back to Seattle after graduation, which makes me really happy. She may always be an annoying eleven year old to me, but I do really love my little sister. Yeah. They are doing fine. I mean, Zach is a doctor, AND he has his rich dad who owns all the cheese factories. Carly doesn't even have to work, but she does. Carly isn't gonna sit around. That's just not Carly. Yeah, so she's a lawyer. A lawyer! She's like finishing off my dream for me and stuff, but who do you think my dad likes to compare my home life to? Yeah, that lawyer and the doctor. Oh, and the lawyer and the doctor got a puppy! His name is Boggleworth! They made the mistake of letting their one-year-old and incredibly random niece name him. Sorry 'bout the boring fill-in of everyone's life there. Let's get to the recollecting part.

Alright, as you all know, I gave my couch to Sam and Freddie. I don't know what in the good name of cupcakes possessed me to do this, but I did. And now we have this new, like, wrap-around couch type thing. It's, like, long and tannish in color, and it's super comfy. But, ugh, it makes me want to throw up. I don't know why…it's just not my couch, you know? But, I am beginning to realize that the other one was never meant to be my couch either. And it fits in quite well with Sam and Freddo's new living room. Oh, right, sorry. Recollecting time...right, well, here it goes.

So I'm going to tell you about the time Sam and Freddie invited all of us over to catch up and stuff. A little get together type thing. Freddie's idea, not Sam's, obviously. In fact, I bet Sam is rather pissed off about the whole thing. Not only because Mrs. B is coming, but because she's pregnant. And she's pissed off all the time these days.

Oh, yeah. Sam is about six months pregnant. With Freddie's baby, I assume. Heh. Funny. Anyways, yeah. She's one of those chicks who gets really huge. There is no mistaken that the girl is going to have a baby. And she can't accept the fact that she can't eat trans fatty food all the time anymore for the baby's sake. I feel kind of bad for her...but I feel worse for Freddie.

"Hey guys! Come on in." Freddie leads us through the hardwood entrance room of thier new apartment. I see that Mrs. B, and Carls and Zach have already arrived. They are hanging out in the living room. They are all sitting in chairs, watching Sam sprawled out over the entire couch. She has a large bowl of pudding balanced on her stomach. Her humongous stomach. Heh heh...And she looks generally pissed off. Also heh.

Freddie leads us into the living room with the others. Mandy takes the only leftover chair, bouncing Lilly up and down on her lap. I sigh and sink to the floor.

"Sam, sit up so there's room on the couch for Spence."

"Naw, it's cool, Freddo. I don't want to sit on your couch anyways...like, ever."

Freddie cocks his eyebrow and shrugs. They still don't completely get my thing with them and my couch. I don't really get it either. All I know is that I feel extremely uncomfortable sitting on that couch. And like Sam was going to sit up for me anyways...pssht. Freddie grabs her legs and pushes her up, making room for himself.

"Wait! Before you sit down-," Sam kicks him a bit, "go make me a sammich!" Then she smirks, prodding him with her foot again. When Freddie doesn't react, she crosses her arms. "You are just no fun anymore."

Freddie rolls his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sam. I just don't feel like beating on my pregnant wife."

Sam rolls her eyes too, but she smiles. "Whatever. Just go make that sandwich."

Freddie sighs, "Sam-,"

"Oh! And I am really in the mood for some pickles!" She struggles for a moment. "And...uh, ah! Let me think...and...ooh! Some marshmallows!"

Freddie crosses his arms. "Sam-,"

"Hey! I'm the one carrying the little thing in my belly! All you have to do is fill my cravings, Benson!"

Freddie smiles down at her and starts again, "I was just going to ask you if you wanted the pickles on the sandwich. Chill out, Benson." Ah, of course. Sam's 'Benson last name game' is now a game playable by both of them. This visibly annoys Sam.

"Oh, get me some marshmallows too!" I yell after Fred as he makes his way the kitchen. So we wait a few minutes for Freddie, who supposedly has some news to tell all of us. Zach is attempting to make small talk with Mrs. B (poor, courageous, Zach). Mandy and Carly are playing with Lilly, laughing/snorting about something...who knows about what...those two don't even really need a reason to laugh and snort together. Sam calls for Diggy, who I just noticed perched on top of the TV. He is huge. Like, almost as huge as Sam. Well, like, in a smaller, birdy sort of scale. He's not literally as huge as Sam...yeah. Whoa, Sam is huge. I mean, just her stomach, but still. It's just a funny sight. Anyhoo, Diggy kind of glides (falls) down from his perch and waddles over to Sam. He sort of hops a bit, then squawks at her when he realizes that he can't get up on the couch by himself any more. Sam sighs and extends her arms toward him. But her large belly gets in the way, and she can't reach him. So they stay like that for a moment, both trying and failing to reach each other due to their guts. Heh, but Sam has an excuse. Diggy's problem is directly caused by Fat Cake consumption. It's a wonder Sam hasn't looked like that over the years. You know what? Her metabolism is an overachiever.

Freddie comes back out from the kitchen with the sandwich in his hand, and a grin on his face. He laughs once, then scoops Diggy up and sets him on the back of the couch above Sam's head. Dig plops down on his back, his tummy sticking up in almost exact resemblance of Sam right now. Heh. It's like he decided to get fat to make sure she didn't fell alone. Diggy is a sweety...uh, to Sam. Or maybe he just got fat 'cause Freddie stopped caring what he ate.

"Thanks," Sam murmurs as Fred hands her a plate with a pickle sandwich and some marshmallows. Wow, Sam said thanks, and nothing mean. Aw, marriage is working wonders on her.

"Raawt! Thanks! Rawt! Freddork! Raaawt!" Sam pats Dig and feeds him a pickle slice. Okay, never mind about my last statement then.

Freddie rolls his eyes as he pulls Sam's feet off the couch, taking their place. "Uh, Fred-," I start.

"Here, Spence." He tosses me the package of marshmallows. Sha-weet. "Um, alright. I'm just gonna get to the point. As some of you know, I invited you guys over here not only to eat dinner, but I have some news to tell you." He glances at Sam. "Uh, and it's news for you too."

Sam nods boredly, and takes another messy bite of her sandwich. Freddie gulps as he continues. "So, I got a call from Dr. Schnieder the other day-,"

"Who's that?" Sam asks, spraying Freddie with some pickle juice.

Freddie wipes off his brow. "Your doctor, Sam!"

Sam nods. "Oh, right. Forgot. Okay, keep goin'."

Freddie sighs. "Anyways, he told me that there was a fluke in one of the ultrasounds. Uh, they caught something that they didn't before." Freddie gulps again. Why is he so nervous? Everyone is visibly interested at this point, but Mrs. B looks like she is going to explode if Freddie doesn't get his news out soon. "And, umm-,"

"Did Sam's Fat Cake eating damage the baby?" Mrs. B finally asks, bouncing a little in her seat.

"No!" Freddie says quickly. "No, they babies are perfectly healthy-,"

"Babies?" Mandy is the first to catch his slip up. "Don't you mean _baby_?"

"Uh-," another gulp from Freddie. "No...I meant babies." He glances at Sam.

She itches her head. "Like, plural?" Freddie nods, the color in his face steadily draining. Carls and Mandy should be clapping and shrieking, and Mrs. B should be freaking out, but no one moves. We are all waiting for Sam's reaction. Everyone watches her intently as this news slowly sinks in. "Wait, so...there's more than one of the things in my belly?"

Freddie nods. "Yeah, and don't call them _things_, Sam. They're our children."

"It still looks like a sea monkey." Hmm...sounds like they've had this conversation before. I don't know.

"Even so," Freddie starts. "It wouldn't be just one sea monkey, it would be two." He takes a deep breath and watches Sam as this further sinks in.

"Like...like twins?" she asks. Freddie nods, trying to hide his smile. Why does he want to hide his smile? "Damn it!" Sam yells. Ah, that's why. Of course.

"Now Sam-," Freddie tries, half raising his arms. Too late. Sam is lunging at him, but she doesn't get very far due to her large tummy. So she leans back and settles for the death glare.

She crosses her arms saying, "This is your fault, Freddie."

"It's just as much your fault as it is mine, Sam!" Freddie yells defensively. Then he smirks at her. "In fact, it's more your fault, if I remember correctly." Buaah! I just gagged on a marshmallow.

Sam shuts Freddie up with a pillow to the face. "How am I supposed to birth two kids! That's, like, double the labor time! Ah!"

"Look, Sam, it's gonna-,"

"You better get used to carrying around a silver platter of ham and pain killers, there Benson."

Freddie just can't help himself. "Alright, Benson." Sam huffs and crosses her arms. "I already wait on you hand and foot. What's a silver platter gonna do?" He can't help himself _again_, and he leans in and kisses her forehead. Sam smiles at him briefly, then goes back to her angry and disgruntled expression.

"Twins," she mutters to no one in particular. "Ah, damn it." She glares at Freddie again, who is smiling at her. She looks like she wants to strangle his happy face, but then she glances around at all of us and decides against it. Whoa! That is a true sign that Sam has finally grown up. She only beats Freddie up when they are in private these days. That's a big step for her. Awesome. You go, Sam.

Okay, so I see why Freddie wanted all of us to be here. He knew Sam would be angry and overly assertive after hearing this news, and he wanted backup. Not at all like a normal mother-to-be hearing she is pregnant with twins. Heh. Oh Sam, gotta love her. Yeah, it seems like everyone else is as un-surprised as me to witness their strange exchange. Now that things seem to have cooled down between the couch sitters, everybody is all happy and congratulatory toward them. Even Mrs. B.

"Well, I'm happy for you guys." She forces herself to offer Sam a sweet smile. "I'm sure your children will be very...er, successful. Your genes will make up for Freddie's lack in back bone." Sam smiles back at her, though it's surprisingly not forced. Are they getting along? Freddie crosses his arms. Heh. That's funny. Even though his lack in back bone is probably the direct fault of Mrs. B, it's still funny.

So Carls and Zach take their turns congratulating and luck-wishing. Then Mandy sets Lilly down an hugs both of the twin-having-kiddos excitedly, saying some nice mushy stuff. Lilly crawls over to me and steals my marshmallows, then crawls over to Mrs. B, where she knows I won't follow her. That kid is too smart for her own good. Mandy pats my knee, giving me the 'well, say something to them' look. Right.

"Uh, sweet. Two kids...how unfortunate," I offer to Sam, who nods in agreement. "And you are so blessed," I tell Freddie, who smiles at me. "Good luck, mainly to you, Freddo. I hope that your kiddos aren't as aggressive as the big kiddo." I nod at Sam, who has gone back to her giant bowl of pudding. She flings a bit at Freddie for no apparent reason.

Freddie grimaces. "Yeah, thanks Spence. Though I'm sure I'll need more than luck." Sam is pretending to ignore us, but she is smiling into her pudding. "Alright, who's hungry?" Freddie asks. Diggy 'pop's loudly.

"Not me," Sam says. And the world stops turning for just a moment...

"Seriously?" Fred asks, sounding concerned.

Sam yawns and stretches. "I'm-," another yawn, "-just really tired."

"But Sam, we have company over for dinner." She just crosses her arms and watches him expectantly. When that does nothing, she offers him a small smile. Freddie sighs then stands up himself, bending down over his pregnant wife and scooping her up into his arms easily.

Sam smiles and pats his cheek. "Hey, don't forget my pudding," she says before he starts down the hall toward their room.

"Sam, you said you weren't hungry."

Sam shakes her head. "Hey, Fredison, I'm eating for three now!" Freddie rolls his eyes, and stoops down so she can grab the bowl of pudding off the coffee table. Then he carries her back to her bed. I guess the angry pregnant woman won't be joining us for dinner. Thank my lucky stars. Maybe I'll actually get something to eat.

"No Sam!" Freddie's voice travels to the living room from down the hall. "You can itch your own feet!"

"Hey, I'm eating for three now!" she informs him...again. "You have to do whatever I tell you!" And since Sam isn't still yelling right now, I bet Freddie caved. Whipped, pa-cha!

"Spencer! Please take care of your daughter," Mandy says, giving me a stern look. "Her stench has your name all over it."

"Gah, fine!" I don't even put up a fight anymore...yeah, yeah, I know. Pa-cha....

Hmm...maybe Sam is getting to like the idea of having twins a little better now that she can pull the 'eating for THREE' card on everyone, especially Freddie. Poor Freddie. Pregnant Sam is like an even more enhanced version of angry, aggressive, demanding Sam.

Oooh! Carly is cutting a pie! Yum...strawberries! Not as good as boysenberries, or dewberries, but still...yum.

Well, there you have it. Some of the more vivid memories of Sam and Freddie, ultimately leading up to the loss of my couch to the stubborn love birds. Well, thanks for listening. Actually...you're welcome for sharing all of these recollections with you. Some were interesting to share...some were just awkward or painful...Mmmkay. I'm off to go teach Lilly to fly a kite. Oh! I almost forgot. I wanted to teach you guys the basics in Pig Latin. It's for your own good. Okay, so--

Hold up, I just got a text from Fredster. It says to get over there right now in all caps and a few exclamations. Uh, hmm...this can be interpreted a few different ways. My guess is that either Sam or the twins tried to eat something they can't swallow. Yeah, it's happened to both before.

Okay, bear with me for a moment while I go see what-up with the kiddos. Then we can continue Pig Latin 101.

Whoa! Did you just see that bird? Yeah, the one that just hit my windshield. That was crazy. And gross.

Alright, I'm here. I'm sensing a battle scene of sorts.

Hey, guess who's right?

"Um, hi there kiddos. Freddie, I got your text-,"

"Freddie, if you take one more step, you're gonna be sorry!" Sam is standing up on the couch with one foot raised up toward the approaching Freddie, holding a baby in one arm and a fat parrot in the other. She is glaring Freddie down, just daring him to make a move. Ah, Benson family home life.

"Just give me that bird!"

Uh? "Uh-," I start.

"Stop yelling!" Sam screams at Freddie. "You're gonna wake up Rock in the other room!"

"Our kid's name is Christopher, Sam. Stop calling him Rock!"

"He needs a cooler name than Christopher if he's going to be in the MMA league!"

"He is NOT going to be an MMA fighter. So you can just get that out of your head now, Sam." Freddie stands up on the too, and grabs for Diggy. Hmm...I wonder what the sadistic little bird did to push Freddie over the edge this time. Sam leans back and kicks out at him. She almost loses her balance, but Freddie catches her foot and steadies her.

"Whoa, thanks Fredward."

"Yeah, Sam. Sure thing." He helps her stand up right then takes the baby out of her hands. "Here, give me Anna. You're gonna drop her." Sam hands over the baby, then uses her free hand to further shield Dig. Then their brief non-hostile interlude ends as Freddie hastily shoves the baby into my arms, the jumps back up onto the couch to face his fuming wife.

Why do all babies feel the need to suck on my nose? I mean, is it really that suckish...er, suckable...sucktastic? I don't know. Oh well, I'm optimistic. I will take this as flattery.

"Hey guys?" Nothing. They're zoned in.

"Just let Spencer take that bird home with him, Sam! I don't think I can take another minute with him here." Oh, that's why I'm here. Okay. Aw, I can't stand Diggy either.

Sam lets Diggy crawl up on her shoulder as Freddie lashes out for him."You promise you aren't going to hurt him?" she asks.

Freddie sighs. "No, Sam, I won't hurt him," he tells her reluctantly. "I just want Spencer to take him back. That bird is a nuisance."

I am about to ask what Dig did this time, but Anna answers my question by pulling on my ear and pointing frantically at Freddie saying, "Dork! Dork!" Ah, Diggy finally has someone to teach himself.

Freddie scowls at Sam who is smiling proudly at Anna. "Yeah, she said her first word today." Sam snorts and ruffles Freddie's hair. "Dork. Heh." Freddie crosses his arms impatiently. "Hey, Diggy taught her to say it, not me."

"And who taught Diggy?" Freddie asks, stepping down from the couch and offering his hand to help Sam.

Sam takes it as she comes down too. "Okay, true. I'm sorry." But she doesn't look very sorry. She is doing everything in her power to not completely break down in a fit of laughter. Freddie is doing everything in his power to not smile down at her. They watch each other for a moment, then a loud cry sounds off from down the hall.

"Go get your son."

"He's your son too, Sam. And it's your turn!"

Sam laughs at this. "We aren't some lame sitcom family. We don't take turns there, Fredward." Hey! Mandy and I take turns. We aren't lame...

Freddie glares down at her, but he knows Sam will never cave, and Chris is still crying. Freddie sighs and starts down the hall. I'm glad that their children seem to be included in the zone, or they would be horrible cases of neglect. Sam watches after Freddie fondly for a moment, then she notices me when he disappears into the room, and the back of him isn't causing a proper distraction. "Hey, Spence. When did you get here?"

Seriously? "Uh, I don't know...while you guys were on the couch freaking out on each other."

"Ah," she says, taking Anna from my hands and replacing her with Diggy. Dig nips at my nose.

"Stop it, Diggy. That's rude."

"Say it," Sam whispers to the curly blonde headed baby.

"Dork!"

Sam smirks proudly. "That's my girl." Freddie comes back down the hall, eying Sam skeptically.

"Sam? Seriously?" He holds Chris out, revealing the black battle marks on his cheeks.

Sam smiles. "Hey, it is MMA Sunday. Felix Caro is on." She ruffles Freddie's dark hair, then Chris' dark hair. "Rock loves him some MMA." Rock (er, Chris) claps excitedly as she says this. Poor Freddie. He is going to have to raise a family of MMA fanatics.

Freddie sighs. "Well, I've got to go to work, Sam." He turns to me. "What are you doing here?"

"You texted me!" Right? Gah, maybe I'm going crazy.

Freddie nods. "Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was freaking out, and I wanted to get rid of that stupid bird as quickly as possible." He glares down at Diggy as Diggy 'pop's at him. "I mean, thanks for giving him to us and all. It was fun while it lasted."

"Bye Diggy!" Sam cries, patting him affectionately. Freddie rolls his eyes. Ugh. I don't want to take Diggy back. He's so annoying, but I feel sorry for Freddie. It hurts to be such a great guy sometimes...

"Well, I need to get to work." Fred turns to Sam. "What are you making for dinner? You need me to pick up anything from the store?"

Sam smirks. "I'm not making dinner. So whatever you want to do, go for it, Turbo." Freddie rolls his eyes, again.

"Just make sure you feed the kids."

Sam grabs a bottle off the coffee table. "Way ahead of you."

Freddie grabs his jacket, then feels around inside of the pocket with a confused expression. "Sam, where are my keys?"

She shrugs. "Well, Fredward, where did you put them?"

"They were in my pocket! And you used the car last!"

Sam plops down on the couch and brings the bottle to her eager Anna's mouth. Wow, Sam has to take care of someone other than herself. Strange. Chris crawls over to her and tries to rip the bottle out of Anna's mouth. Hmm...they've got their mother's appetite. Wonderful. "I'm pretty sure you were the last one to use the car," Sam tells Freddie.

Freddie shakes his head. "No, Sam, YOU did. Gah, you are so frustrating sometimes-,"

"Oh, I'm so sorry that you lost your keys. Stop trying to blame it on me!"

"It's always you, Sam!"

"STOP SCREAMING! You're gonna scare the kids!"

"You're the one-," Freddie is interrupted by a loud clanking sound. He looks down, seeing his keys on the floor.

"They were in your other pocket, dork."

Freddie bends down to pick up the keys. He gulps as he looks at her, but she's smiling. He smiles too, then strides over to her. He takes her face in his hands and kisses her. It's like all the hostility from the fight has turned into, uh, passion? I don't know. I'm a little rusty at explaining kisses. I haven't watched a chick flick in awhile. And I seriously just don't get them. Like, they can be fighting one second, and making out the next. Okay, I kind of get them. Alright! After all of the times I have witnessed on their couch (whoa, first time calling it _their couch_) , I pretty much know their peculiar relationship inside and out! Well, not really. But probably even better than they know it. Okay, maybe not this one either. I tend to think that hateful words and raised voices are supposed to portray anger, not love. But whatever. It's Sam and Freddie. If I had to explain them in one word, it would be 'dysfunctional'.

"I'm sorry for blaming you, Sam."

"It's alright, Fredward," Sam says, pulling him back to meet her lips one more time before he stands up to leave. He kisses the each of the twins on their curly heads, then turns to me.

"Uh, you don't have to kiss me, Freddo."

He smiles. "I was just gonna pat your shoulder. Thanks for taking Diggy off our hands. He was getting so annoying."

"Trust me, I know," I say, looking down at the fat bird 'popping' contentedly in my hands. "Why aren't you dead yet?" He squawks at me. "Alright, well I better get going. We'll see you guys this weekend, right?"

"Sure thing," Fred says, following me to the door.

"Have fun playing pat-a-cake with you nerd friends while you make super duper computers. Love you, Freddo." Coming from Sam, this is like the equivalent of a wife's 'work hard honey. I love you.'

Freddie luckily knows this too. "Yeah, thanks. I love you too, Sam." He glances back proudly at his family and their couch one more time before he closes the door behind him.

They are so weird. I mean they hate each other, but mainly they love each other. It's so strange. Maybe they love each other because they fight. Naw, they fight because they love each other. I don't know. I'm so confused. Ugh...What do I expect though? It's Sam and Freddie.

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Ongratulationscay! Okay, well, it's been fun, I guess. Sort of...yeah. I'm going to miss you guys...maybe. I don't know. Ooh look, a penny! Okay, cheerio.

Oh, and if you finally finished reading this, uh, saga you should have a very deep appreciation for your couch right about now. Go. Find your couch. Tell him you missed him. Tell him you won't ditch him for the computer anymore. Call him an endearing name of sort. Muffin Cakes, or Pumpkin (better if pronounced as _Punkin_). Hey, have you ever wondered why names of food are taken as endearment? Like _Sugar Plum_ or _Cuppie Cake_? Weird, right? Anyhoo, go find your couch and tell him you love him. Then sit on him for a very, very long time, so he doesn't feel neglected. Just live on him for a few days. He will really feel appreciated. And when your gramma comes in and stands in front of the TV, and tells you that you have been sitting on the couch for nine days, and you need to get outside, kindly inform her that you have heliophobia (fear of the sun). This may or may not be a senseless lie, but it's all worth the guilt and your grandma's disappointment to share that precious time with your couch. Good bye.

Wait! One more thing! If your little sister's two punk friends come over and sit on your couch then start bickering and at times physically harming one another, just kick them out right then and there. Tell your little sister that she is not allowed to have friends over anymore. Trust me. It will make your life _so_ much easier. And your grocery bill will magically diminish. Oh, and your couch will thank you, trust me. And it won't be violated. Alright, keep it real, homeslices.

* * *

**Heh. Alright. Thanks for reading guys. You are a very interesting bunch. Like, all of your reviews leave me cracking up. You guys are so random...it's hilarious. Okay, well, leave a review. You know the drill. Uh, tell me about your day, or what your favs were. I love hearing your favorite stuff. My personal favorite scene in this whole thing I think was when Freddie got Sam in a headlock in chapter four...it was a proud moment for anyone who feels sorry for Freddo when he gets beat up by girls on the show (which has sadly happened a few times). Hey, you can tell me your least favorites too! It's whatever.**

**This thing got super long. I have diagnosed ADD, so I can't understand how you stuck with it. But every chapter was supposed to build on and had some sort of meaning to it...and writing in Spencer PoV, you tend to ramble, so it gets long. Heh. Okay, well I don't know when my next story is gonna be out. Idk...prolly a one shot. Hmm...hey, I'll take requests if you have any. One of you guys should try a Spencer PoV. It's fun, it really is. He's so full of childlike wonder. **

**Okay, thanks so much homies. So long. Eh, godspeed. Um...shalom. Bon voyage! Later days! Adios! Unhello! I'm outtie! Buhbyes!....indecsion....**

**Later gators.**


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